


Bitter

by IdyllicAurora



Category: My Hero Academia
Genre: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead is So Done, Aizawa is so done, All for one ruins everybody’s lives, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Nedzu (My Hero Academia), DNA for one? He’s not really a great dad, Dadmic, Established Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Give this man some coffee, I'm Sorry, Inko Midoriya tries her best, Mentor Nedzu (My Hero Academia), Midoriya Is high key traumatized, Midoriya Izuku Does Not Have One for All Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Has All for One Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Has Multiple Quirks, Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk, Midoriya Izuku Needs A Hug, Midoriya Izuku Tries His Best, Midoriya Izuku is So Done, Multi, Nedzu is a Little Shit (My Hero Academia), Original Character - Freeform, Parental Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Parental Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Sensei | All For One is Midoriya Hisashi, She’s high key traumatized as well, Smart Nedzu (My Hero Academia), The Author Regrets Everything, The author is burned out, This is terrible i’m sorry, This will be a dark story in general, Traumatized Midoriya Izuku, Tsukauchi Naomasa is So Done, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku, Yagi Toshinori makes an honest effort, also, and Izuku tells everyone that whenever he can, dad for one, erasermic is canon, have I mentioned everyone is trying their best?, he could do better, he doesn’t try his best, i love that mouse? bear? rat? principal., i think, if they ever show up let it be known they are canon, in this house we Stan Nedzu, it makes me so sad when he isn’t included, lots of angst but id die before I give my characters a sad ending, my opinion of all might changes every day, or depicted as evil, probably, tags that fit this story, the author is struggling with writers block, the commission is a collective piece of shit, vigilante Midoriya and Aizawa shenanigans? Possibly, we’ll see, what are these tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:34:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdyllicAurora/pseuds/IdyllicAurora
Summary: At the age of six, Mikumo Atanaki becomes Izuku Midoriya. At the age of ten, Izuku Midoriya becomes Ember, an infamous vigilante in Musutafu. At the age of fourteen, Izuku might be able to achieve his childhood dream. But at what cost?
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Yagi Toshinori | All Might
Comments: 53
Kudos: 312





	1. Weak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phantomessangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomessangel/gifts), [feelingstabby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelingstabby/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikumo is six years old when he becomes Izuku Midoriya.

~~Mikumo~~ Izuku was not weak. He wasn’t weak, when at four years old, he developed the most powerful quirk in existence. He wasn’t weak when he easily overpowered Bakugou, _Kacchan_ , earning the attention of their teachers and classmates alike. He wasn’t weak, at the age of six, when his mother woke him up in the middle of the night, telling him to quickly pack his yellow backpack and follow her out to the car.

Scared, definitely, as he stepped out into the cold winter night, clutching his all might figure close to his chest. Sad, as his home, _his life_ , disappeared behind them. Nervous, as his mother glanced back, eyes blown wide, body shaking like a leaf. But not weak. Never weak. _The weak die, Mikumo._ His father had told him once, _The strong kill them._ ~~Mikumo~~ Izuku didn’t want to die. He still had so many people to protect. To save. So ~~Mikumo~~ Izuku crafted his own mantra. The strong can protect. ~~the strong can kill.~~ I will be the strongest hero. ~~You will be the strongest person.~~ And I ~~you~~ will protect ~~crush~~ the vulnerable ~~weak.~~

* * *

_The house was on fire. Burning, and burning, and burning.  
_

_”Oh my god!” Someone cried, though it was drowned out in the chaos. “Oh my god!”_

_”Where are the- Someone call the heroes!”_ _More chaos. Crowds running, running, running, towards the smoke and the flames._

“ _What’s going on?! How did the fire start?!”  
  
_

_“Inko?! Where are they?! Are they out of the house!?”_

_  
“I don’t see them! I think they’re still inside!”  
  
_

_“Where are the heroes?!”  
  
_

_“They should be here in a few minutes!”_

  
_“Inko?! Mikumo?!”  
  
_

_“Mitsuki, You can’t!”  
  
_

_“M-Mom!? where’s Mikumo?”_

  
_“K-Katsuki? Masaru, get him out of here!”  
  
_

_“Katsuki, come on-“_

  
_“What’s going on?!_ ”   
  


_“It’s getting even worse!”  
  
_

_“Inko and her son can’t survive that, can they?!”_  
  


_“I-It’ll be fine. The heroes will be here soon!”  
  
_

_“Inko!”_  
  


_“The heroes are here!”_  
  


_“Oh, thank god!”_

_  
“Move out of the way!”  
  
_

_“Send someone in!”  
  
_

_“Do we have anyone with a water quirk?!”  
  
_

_“Who lived in this house?! Are they outside!?”_

_  
“The fire is too harsh! We have to put it out before we focus on rescue!”  
  
_

_“Backdraft!”  
_

_  
“Got it!”  
  
  
“How could something like this happen?!”   
  
_

~~_How could something like this happen?_ ~~ _  
_

* * *

“While the police are still searching for the cause of the fire, Inko Atanaki and her son, Mikumo, are presumed to be dead-”

The tv clicked off in a burst of static. The bar was silent aside from the occasional deep, labored breath.

“Kurogiri.”

“Yes, Sensei?”

“You know what to do.”

* * *

“Mom?” Mikumo said, hands tightening around his all-might figurine “What’s going on? Why are we here?” Inko only smiled at him, pulling him by the hand down the long, dark hallway. She smoothed down her frizzy hair, pulling out a set of jingling keys from her pocket.

The lock clicked, door swinging open. Mikumo stepped into the empty apartment, looking around with wide eyes. “This is our new home, Mikumo.” Inko said, a wide, almost deranged smile on her face “We’re finally free of him.”

Mikumo squirmed in her too-tight grip, but didn’t say anything. Where was Papa? Escape from who? When were they going home? Inko looked at him, sadness in her eyes “I know this must confusing.” She said, kneeling down to brush back his curls “But I’m going to keep you safe, I promise. No matter what it takes.” Mikumo hesitated, but nodded. Inko’s eyes softened. “You must be tired, huh, baby?” At his yawn, her smile widened “Okay, let’s go to bed.”

They set up an air mattress, curling up against each other to make up for the lack of blankets. Inko carded her fingers through his hair, placing a gentle kiss on his head. Mikumo closed his eyes, and dreamed of being a hero.


	2. Disappointed

Izuku was starting to get tired of this. When he had first started out, getting chased by heroes was thrilling. It was an accomplishment. He was doing enough good to get their attention! And surely, as the Heroes saw he was only trying to help, they would stop chasing him!

But they didn’t. And as time went by, they got more aggressive. They didn’t care that Izuku was only helping them. They didn’t care if they gave the boy burns, or broken bones. They only cared about catching him. Those were the heroes sent by the commission. Brutal. They didn’t see the difference between Vigilante and Villain. Or maybe they did, and just didn’t care. Izuku wouldn’t put that past them. After all, his mere existence was an insult to them. How dare a vigilante do more than the heroes. How dare he be better. The hero commission couldn’t stand for that. For anyone uprooting their _perfect_ society. And so Izuku had become the enemy.

 _You were always going to be their enemy, Izuku._ Izuku could not remember his father’s voice, but the words reverberated in his mind nonetheless. _My child, the heroes doomed your dreams from the start._

Izuku hoped he choked on that fake sympathy. All for One had never cared for him, or his mother. They were just pieces in his game. A pawn and a successor. He may not believe in heroes that much nowadays, but he couldn’t even think about being a villain. Not when that would mean being like _him_.

Being a vigilante was decent middle ground. He got to help people, like he always dreamed, and didn’t have to worry about being caught by the heroes. Or thrown in Tartarus. Or in a lab. Or straight up killed. Or-

“Hey, Kid!” Izuku stood up, whirling around with a wide smile. Death Arms scowled, drawing his weapon “Look, kid, I don’t want to fight you.” Izuku tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t? Then why are you chasing me?”

Of course, Izuku knew exactly why they were chasing him, but asking was a good look into each individual hero's motives. Some of them wanted to turn him in simply because he was an annoyance. Some went after him because of the commission's orders. And some did it out of a mistaken sense of kindness, convinced that he couldn’t take care of himself.

Those last ones were the hardest. Izuku didn’t mind those heroes. Sometimes he almost felt bad about escaping. It didn’t take him very long to remember what would happen if he was caught, though. Death arms glared “You know why, Kid. What you're doing is illegal. And it’s dangerous out here for you.”

Death Arms was definitely the third one, Izuku had learned pretty early. He tried to keep him without injuries, didn’t use excessive force and generally had a good head on his shoulders. Still, he tried at every opportunity to bring Izuku in. And no matter his motive, Izuku couldn’t allow that.

“I would’ve thought three years of vigilantism would prove I’m plenty capable.” Izuku snarked, mentally running through each of his quirks. Something offensive would be good, but not anything that would cause actual harm to the hero. _Wind_? Not if it would risk pushing Death Arms off the building. _Fire_? No, too much collateral damage. _Then what…?_

“It proves you’re good at getting out of tight situations.” Death Arms moved closer, and seemed surprised when Izuku didn’t move back. His eyes narrowed “You seem to have good intentions, but there is a reason vigilantism is illegal.”

“Because the commission can’t stand anyone existing outside of their black and white labels?”

That earned him a glare, but Izuku regretted nothing. “Because quirks can be incredibly deadly, and it’s far too easy for someone to lose control.”

“And yet Endeavor is number two, and he has the highest casualty rate of both villains and civilians. Where’s the concern about that?”

“Kid-“ Death Arms sighed, rubbing his face. Izuku smirked, but quickly sobered as the exhaustion hit him. “I don’t suppose you can just leave me alone? I’m tired, and don’t feel like staging an escape right now.”

“Then don’t. Turn yourself in.”

This time Izuku really did laugh, but it wasn’t filled with amusement. Didn’t he get it? No, probably not. Death Arms had a strength quirk. A simple strength quirk. The moment his quirk had manifested, he had probably had dozens of people telling him he could be a hero. That it was his birthright. And so how could he understand? It was probably easy, to say what he said, when he had that path laid out for him.

Izuku needed to distract him, somehow. To knock him off his feet just long enough to escape. If he could just _stun him_ -

Oh. That could work. Izuku reached to the back of his line of quirks, pulling electricity to the surface. Energy sizzled underneath his fingertips. He carefully pulled the taser out of his pocket, making sure to hide it from Death Arms’ view. The thing had lost its charge years ago, and had been discarded at dagobah beach. Izuku couldn’t be more grateful for it. The thing itself no longer worked, but Death Arms didn’t know that. It would be perfect for disguising his quirks.

He took a step forward, staring intently at the hero through his mask. “But what if the laws are wrong?” He asked. Death Arms seemed to consider it, before shaking his head “Then we make change, legally.” _Another step forward_. “We? Neither one of us can make that kind of change. Why would the commission allow it, when they benefit from suffocating everyone else?” _Another step forward._

“Not all heroes are bad, Kid.” Death Arms spoke softly.

“I know.” Izuku said, pressing the taser to Death Arms’ chest. “But their society is.”

Death Arms yelled in pain, stumbling back. Izuku pocketed the taser, leaping off the roof and into the dark. _Resistance_ , as he landed on his feet. _Balance_ , as he took off running. _Disappear_ , as he melted into the alley’s shadows, ignoring Death Arms’ calls for backup. That would be enough patrolling for tonight. Izuku was tired.

* * *

Tshusachki Naomosa needed a break. Unfortunately, he couldn’t afford to take one. Not with skilled vigilantes running around. Especially not with Ember. The kid had been a vigilante for years now, and they were still no closer to capturing him. Every time a hero was sure they had cornered him, he found a way out of it.

It didn’t make sense. The kid had no right to be as skilled as he was. Not without years and years of training. Not without a solid quirk. Which he very well might have, considering the fact that Naomosa received countless reports of his ever-growing list of skills. All of which could be the result of a quirk. All of which could be nothing.

He downed another cup of coffee, rubbing at his eyes. The hero commission had started to get impatient. They wanted the kid in captivity. Naomosa agreed that they needed to bring the kid in, but for different reasons. No matter how skilled he was, he was just a child. Sooner or later he would come against an opponent he couldn’t defeat. And they may not be able to reach him in time, when he did. 

The door opened, and in walked Death Arms. Tsusachki looked up hopefully. “The kid escaped again.” Death Arms slid into the chair, looking exhausted “He has a taser now.” Tsusachki blinked. Then he sighed, dragging his hands down his face. “I need more coffee.”

* * *

The window opened with a squeak, and Izuku climbed inside, quickly stripping off his costume and tossing it under the mattress. 

“Good today.” He whispered to himself, staring up at the celling “Even better tomorrow.” He hesitated, but looked to the corner, where his all might figurine was almost hidden by his notebooks. The toy had been worn down over the years. Most of the plastic had been scratched off, and the colors had become much duller. But All Might still smiled. Izuku wondered how the real thing would react, if he found out who he was. Disgust? Fear? Or would he still smile? Would he reassure him that his blood didn’t make him a monster? That his quirk could be used for good? He didn’t know. And he probably never would.   
  
“Plus Ultra.” Izuku whispered into the empty room. All Might did not hear him. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izuku: I don’t hate heroes.  
> Death Arms: Okay?  
> Izuku: The commission, however- 
> 
> \- - - - 
> 
> Yes, I rewrote this chapter literally two days after I first posted it. What are you going to about it? I’m kidding, please don’t leave lol


	3. Reasonable

Aizawa Shouta considered himself to be a reasonable person. He knew what his students would say to that. How they would point out his logical ruses, his extreme teaching methods. His habit of expelling anyone he deemed without potential. Even Hizashi had begun to joke about it, although he privately reassured Shouta he knew why he did it.

Aizawa had his reasons. And they weren’t to crush the dreams of children. So many people aspired to be heroes, but didn’t have the drive or potential to become one. He cared about his students, and he wouldn’t send them to their deaths because of an unachievable dream. Expelling them, though seemingly harsh, was a mercy in the long run. Better they find a career that really suits them than die in the first years of heroism, or not graduate at all.

But anyway, he was reasonable. Which meant that he didn’t care much for the commission, or their incredibly strict laws on heroes and quirks. He didn’t mind vigilantes either, most of the time. A lot of them had good intentions, and just didn’t have the means or the ability to gain a hero license. As long as they weren’t actively harming anyone, Shouta couldn’t care less.

But he was still a hero, underground as he may be, and that meant he had to follow the commission's orders. Which meant hunting down vigilantes. Especially the ones that had slipped through their grasp for too long.

The ones like Ember. Active for three years, famous for being able to get out of any situation. Minimal collateral damage in his takedowns of Villains. No clear quirk, but an incredible amount of skills. The commission wanted him for themselves, no doubt.

“Name: Ember. Quirk: Unknown. Estimated Age: 13-18. Years active: 3.” Shouta sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. Detective Naomosa gave him a sympathetic look, sliding a thermos of coffee across the desk. Good. Shouta would need it to deal with this.

“So, to be clear.” He began, taking a sip of the boiling liquid “You’ve been pursuing a child vigilante.”

“A _skilled_ child vigilante. He’s practically at Pro-Level, Eraser.” That was a whole problem by itself, but Shouta had other things to worry about

“Alright. And this _skilled_ child vigilante has gained the attention of the commission, who have been sending every pro-hero they can after them.”

“That’s correct.” Naomasa confirmed. “They want him captured as soon as possible. A vigilante being on the rise for so long looks bad for them.”

“And you?” Shouta asked, sensing there was more to it. Naomosa sighed. “I’m worried about the kid. He’s skilled, no doubt, but he’s been aggravating more dangerous groups lately. It’s only a matter of time before he gets in over his head.” His mouth turned down, eyes going dark, and Shouta could tell he was picturing the worst case scenario.

“We need to find him before they do.” And Shouta couldn’t really argue with that. He sighed again, gesturing to the file. Naomosa slid it over the desk. Aizawa scanned it briefly, before looking up to the detective with tired eyes. “Do we have any leads?”  
  


* * *

Izuku knew when he was being watched. It wasn’t just Transfer, alerting him to all nearby quirks. It was the prickle on his skin. The eyes that burned hot on his back. The uneasiness that clung to him like a blanket in a rainstorm. Years of hiding from father had made him hyper aware of those things. Izuku guessed he should be grateful. It was helpful in his line of work.

Except he would never be grateful to _him_. Not if he granted him every skill in the world. Izuku crouched carefully, peering into the hazy night. This part of the city was mostly abandoned. A large part of the buildings had been demolished in a villian fight, and the city’s mayor hadn’t bothered to remodel it, which left a large part of the city uninhabitable. The other residents had moved out quickly. No one wanted to live in an area where tragedy had struck like that.

No one except the people who needed to fly under the radar. Like Villains. And Vigilantes. And apparently, underground Heroes. The person watching him didn’t seem particularly malicious, but Izuku knew better than to let his guard down. He had been circling the city for close to an hour now, trying to get the hero off his tail so he could slip away unnoticed. Whoever this was, though, they were skilled. _Really skilled_. Izuku had to resist the urge to use his quirk.

_Disappear_ would help him get away, but there was a reason Izuku didn’t use his quirks in front of people. It was a hindrance short term, but long term it kept him unnoticed. Unnoticed as he could be, anyway, as a relatively famous vigilante. If he used a quirk now, in the open, then was forced to use another one later, his cover would be blown. He didn’t want to think about what would happen then.

That was the only thing keeping him from using _disappear_. But he was starting to lose patience.

From what he could tell from Transfer, the Hero’s quirk was some sort of nullification type. Those quirks had a special type of feeling, like a blanket being thrown over you, or the lights suddenly being turned off and stumbling around in the dark. Izuku hated those quirks. They could only turn off one of his quirks, usually the one he was actively using, but he still felt the loss. And so he did everything he could to avoid nullification quirks. It was just his luck that he managed to attract a hero with one.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, blinking as his face was bathed in white light. _9:30 PM_ ; the screen read. He quickly unlocked it, pulling up the message app and typing a quick message.

**~**

**[Me]: I’m going to be late. There’s a hero tailing me.**

**[Ito] is typing…**

**[Ito]: Got it. Don’t let him see the bag.**

**[Me]: I know.**

**~**

He pocketed the phone, turning fully to face the hero. “I know you’re there.” Izuku called out. “I’m not in the mood for games.” For a moment, nothing. Then the rustle of fabric, and a man stepped out of the shadows. Baggy clothing, long black hair and tired red eyes. Izuku recognized him immediately.

“Eraserhead.” Well, that was a problem. Izuku crossed his arms, subtly scanning the area for a route of escape. Eraserhead was famous in the underground. His quirk, _Erasure_ , allowed him to erase the quirk of any individual, as long as they stayed in his line of sight. Powerful as far as nullification quirks went, but not impossible to counter.

Eraserhead basically forced people to fight quirkless. Impossible for most people. Hard for Izuku. But he would manage.

Eraserhead raised an eyebrow, looking curious “You know me?” Izuku nodded, sliding his mask carefully into place. “As much as you try to stay unknown, you’d be surprised how much us _criminals_ talk.” The hero’s eye twitched. Izuku smirked.

“And are you?” The hero asked. Izuku raised an eyebrow. “A criminal.” Eraserhead elaborated. Izuku hummed, kneeling down to scoop a handful of dirt, but feigned looking at the night sky. “Most people would say so, yes.” Eraserhead moved closer, staring at him intently

“And you? How would you describe yourself?” _What is this, a Q &A session?_ Izuku shrugged, an easy smile on his face “I would describe myself as someone who tries to help others.” Honest, but not too honest. Vague enough that it could lead the hero to any number of conclusions. “And what about you?” Izuku asked, smiling eerily “How would you describe yourself, Eraserhead?”

The underground hero blinked, hand twitching towards his capture weapon, before he seemed to think better of it. Izuku leaned back, smirking. He could tell the hero was thrown off guard, if not intimidated. Good. Izuku had spent years mastering the art of changing personalities in a moment, from kind to confident to creepy. It caught people off guard, and subverted their expectations. And subverting expectations was a precious advantage, one that Izuku used to the best of his abilities. That was how he had made it this long. _Be unpredictable. Catch them off guard, then make your move._

Eraserhead seemed to snap out of it after a moment, but his posture remained tense. Then, he took a deep breath. “Reasonable.”

Izuku startled, smile falling off his face “What?”

“I would describe myself as reasonable.” The hero answered. “I honestly don’t care too much for the commission's rules. Vigilantes don’t bother me, as long as they aren’t especially aggressive or hostile. What I do want to know, though, is why you’re doing this. Beyond just helping people.”

Izuku tilted his head “What makes you think there’s more? I could just want to help.”

“Why not become a hero?” Izuku stiffened. “You clearly have the skill. You’re a good strategist. If you don’t want the attention, you can go underground.”

Izuku shook his head “Not everyone can become a hero, Eraserhead.”

“That’s true. But what’s stopping you from becoming one?”

For a second, Izuku contemplated telling him. The man seemed genuine enough. Maybe he really was _reasonable_. Maybe he would see things in a way the rest of society didn’t.

But how many times had Izuku thought that? And how many times had he pulled back anyway? It was too risky. And Izuku couldn’t take unnecessary risks.

“Kid?” Izuku looked up. “Are you okay?” No, he wasn’t, but he couldn’t tell the hero that. He needed to get this bag to his client, and he needed to collect his reward, and then he needed to have enough willpower to go home, rather than sleeping in the local Internet cafe. “I need to go.” Izuku said, like Eraserhead was just going to let him leave. The man sighed, rubbing at his temples “Kid, you know I can’t just let you go. If you turn yourself in, I’ll try to get you leniency. There are rehabilitation programs for people like you.”

Izuku shook his head sharply. “You don’t get it.”

Eraserhead narrowed his eyes. “What don’t I get?”

Izuku sighed. He had hoped he wouldn’t have to do this. He loosened his fist, letting small particles of dirt fall through his fingers. When Eraserhead didn’t react, Izuku relaxed. _It’s too dark to see,_ he thought. _This is why I prefer patrolling at night_.

Izuku took a step closer. “Why I have to do this.” Izuku spoke softly, almost apprehensively. It was a little too honest for his liking, even if it was ultimately a distraction.

Eraserhead raised an eyebrow. “Being a vigilante?”

That,” Izuku said, stepping forward “And this.” He flung a fistful of dirt in his face. 

Immediately, Eraserhead stumbled back, frantically rubbing at his eyes. Izuku leapt off the building, using _resistance_ to land on his feet, unharmed. he activated _disappear_ a moment later, right in time for Eraserhead to peer over the roof of the building, into the seemingly empty alleyway.

Izuku sighed in relief, happy to finally have the hero’s gaze off of him. All that for a package. A package that would pay well, but a package nonetheless. That’s what Izuku got for taking a risky deal. He needed the money, but he could have always gone for something smaller. Either way, he wasn’t coming back here for a while. With Eraserhead tailing him, it was too risky. And Izuku didn’t take unnecessary risks.

* * *

Izuku dropped the bag on the counter, leveling a death glare at the dealer. The man laughed, unzipping the bag and quickly scanning the contents.

“Rough time, Kid?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Izuku said. “I certainly hope this is enough, because I’m not going back to that area for at least a month.”

“Yeah, it’s enough. What hero was giving you trouble?”

“Eraserhead, of all people.” Izuku shook his head. “If I knew I was going to be tailed by him, I would have demanded an extra hundred.”

Ito smirked, counting a handful of bills and then sliding them across the counter. “Take an extra twenty, just for the trouble.”

“Thanks.” Izuku said, tucking the money in his pocket “Pleasure doing business.”

* * *

“Izuku! Here again, I see.” Suzuki-San’s eyes crinkled, filling with worry “Is everything alright?”

Right. Izuku should probably come here less often. He was beginning to worry the staff. “I’m fine, Suzuki-San.” He said, smiling softly. “I’ve just been out and about lately, and this is my go-to stop.”

Suzuki-San smiled, ruffling his hair. Izuku melted into the touch. “Alright, Kiddo. What can I get you?” Izuku frowned. He should probably get something simple, and have plenty of money to pay for groceries, but he had gotten those extra twenty dollars. Maybe he could treat himself, just once. _In that case…_

“Could I get-” Izuku scanned the menu “Oh! Some Katsudon and a Tai-Yaki?”

“You got it. Coming right up!”

Izuku inhaled, smiling as he leaned back in the diner’s booth. The smell of freshly baked goods wafted through the air. Izuku had started coming here years ago, some time after his tenth birthday, and it had become something like a second home to him. The diner was run entirely by a small family, Suzuki-San, her husband, and her elderly mother, who sometimes let Izuku help in the kitchen.

He loved this place. It was his own little home, away from the rest of the world. It was safe. Safer than anywhere else in his life. Suzuki-San and her family didn’t ask questions, and they didn’t have any extreme expectations. Izuku had gotten used to proving things to people, but here he didn’t have to. He was just _Izuku_. Not a vigilante. Not the son of a villain. Not a threat.

Suzuki-San rounded the corner, carrying two plates of food. She set them down with a clank. “Here you are, Kiddo.” She said, brushing her hands on her uniform. Izuku smiled at her “Thanks, Suzuki-San.” She smiled at him, then glanced at the clock, sliding into the booth across from him.

“How have you been?” She asked “I’ve been seeing you here a lot lately, but we never get a chance to catch up. Is school going well?” Izuku hadn’t gone to public school since he was six, but it wasn’t like he could tell her that. Instead, he shrugged. “It’s fine. Kind of boring.”

“Have you tried moving up a grade?” Suzuki-San asked. “You certainly have the smarts for it.” Izuku’s smile turned strained, and he tapped his fingers on the table nervously. He had thought about it, but he had dropped the idea after his mom’s reaction. He could never do anything that would cause her that much uneasiness. 

“Yeah, I’ve thought about it.” Izuku forced himself to keep his voice steady “But I actually decided not to.

“Well, Alright.” She said, in a tone that suggested she knew there was more to it “Well, if you change your mind, you could always try it in high school!”

_Highschool_. Where the hell was Izuku going to go to highschool? Once upon a time, he had dreamed of attending U.A, but if moving up a grade was standing out, going to a hero school was practically begging someone to notice him. Someone like his father. And that _couldn’t_ happen.

_U.A is just a dream_. The words were familiar; biting and cold. _It’s time to wake up_. Izuku took a deep breath, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears welling in his eyes. Suzuki-San looked at him with concern.

“Kiddo?” She asked, gently reaching a hand across the table “You alright?” “I’m fine.” Izuku said, quickly, too quickly to be believable. “Just tired.” Suzuki-San opened her mouth, but Izuku was already up before she could say anything

“I need to get home.” He said, quickly pulling out a tip. Suzuki-San took it, still looking concerned “Thank you. But, Izuku-“

“Got to go. See you later, Suzuki-San!” He pushed open the door, stumbling forward into the chilly fall night. The door closed with a jingle behind him. Izuku started to walk away, but hesitated, leaning forward to look into the diner’s tinted windows.

Suzuki-San was sitting in the booth, head in her hands. Her husband was beside her, hand on her shoulder as he whispered something soothing. Izuku ignored the guilt coiled in his gut, and pulled away, wiping off the now foggy window.

It was better this way. He did it all for a reason. _He had to_. But the guilt didn’t lessen, and Izuku could only walk away. Maybe he could stay out for a while longer. He didn’t feel like going home just yet.   
  
He didn’t have a specific destination in mind, but he had always been good at drifting. So Izuku stepped forward, and _dissapeared_ into the dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, doing literally everything possible to avoid establishing Izuku’s vigilante name: hmm yes, kid, child, young boy- 
> 
> Eraserhead: -vigilantes that slipped through the commission's grasp for too long. The ones like-
> 
> Eraserhead: This kid.  
> Naomosa, nodding: This kid. 
> 
> \- - - 
> 
> Thank you for all of the nice comments on the last chapter, I love all of you. Just a reminder, I did rewrite chapter two quite a bit, so please reread that if you haven’t already. A new suggestion for Izuku’s vigilante name is Kakasu, which means to hide. What do you guys think? Again, I’m totally open to suggestions! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Also, please comment, they fuel this fic.
> 
> ————  
> Rewrite: Okay, so I’m making a few changes, mostly to include Izuku’s vigilante name and to do better with formatting, so. Here you go!


	4. Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible Trigger Warning: Mugging that may appear at first as attempted sexual assault (but it’s not, just be safe)

* * *

[Five Years Ago - The Day Of The Battle Between AFO and OFA]

* * *

“Where is he?!” Tomura skidded down the hallway, growling at the doctors who blocked his way. “Where is Sensei?!” Kurogiri turned towards the teenager, eyes patient. “Shigaraki Tomura.” He said, voice as patient as always “Sensei was grievously wounded by All Might.”

The fifteen year-old’s eyes widened. “What? But-“ He inhaled shakily, hands shaking as he brought four fingers up to scratch at his neck. “Sensei can’t- He can’t-!” Sensei was the only one who had ever believed in him- he had given him everything! He couldn’t die! Sensei was the strong, the strongest, All-Might couldn’t even compare- he didn’t even deserve to be in Sensei’s presence, All-Might, with his fake smiles, with his empty promises, with-

Shigaraki screamed, punching the wall. It disintegrated under his touch. “How dare he?!” He shouted, whirling around with tears in his eyes. Kurogiri looked at him sympathetically, but it only made Tomura’s rage burn brighter. “How dare he?! How dare that fake hurt him! How dare he stand high and mighty, how dare he!” Another punch, bricks melting together and turning to dust. “He can’t kill him! Sensei can’t die! He can’t-”

He stopped, crumpling to the floor with a miserable sob. “Sensei.” He cried, tears dripping onto the cold metal. “Sensei, Please-” And the floor was _crumbling, crumbling_ , turning to ashes and dust and revealing the blood stained secrets beneath. Shigiarki sobbed. “Please-” _Don’t go_ , he pleaded silently, _Sensei, you have to live, you have to beat him! You have to kill him for what he did to you!_

He stood shakily, pressing four fingers to the glass window, his heavy breaths fogging up the glass. Sensei laid motionless on the gurney, surrounded by doctors. His body was charred beyond recognition. Tomura’s stomach churned at the sight. Kurogiri sighed. “Shigaraki Tomura.” The mist villain spoke. “Sensei would not want you to see him like this.”

Tomura shook his head. “I’m not going.”

Silence. Then, “Tomura.”

“I’m _not_ going.”

Kurogiri sighed again, shaking his head in defeat. “I’ll alert you if anything changes.” Kurogiri said. The mist villain left, leaving Shigaraki alone. The teenager blinked back tears. _I’ll kill him, Sensei._ He swore, _I’ll kill him._

* * *

[Three Years Ago - Ember’s Debut] 

* * *

At Ten, Izuku had self control. Just not enough to ignore a cry for help. And that was good. For a future hero, at least. It was a less informed decision for Izuku; The son of a criminal mastermind. He wasn’t supposed to show off his heroic instincts. He was just supposed to stay hidden.

Well, it was too late for that. Izuku didn’t realize he was moving until he was halfway there; his sneakers colliding against the pavement, matching the _thump, thump, thump_ of his heartbeat. Mentally, he went through each of his quirks. Speed quirks, Strength quirks, down the line until he reached the ones he barely used. And along with them, _Disappear._

He didn’t like it. But he’d need it for this. He zipped up his jacket as he ran, pulling the hood over his curly hair. Izuku skidded into the alley, scanning the scene quickly. A woman was held at knifepoint by a snarling man; his hands were clenched around the blade, but red light was emitted from his palms. Izuku could see the blade’s handle slowly melting. _A Heat and Light quirk!_ Izuku thought excitedly, then shook his head, pushing aside his fanboy tendencies. _How hot can he go? Is he invulnerable to his heat? Would his own light blind him if he wasn’t careful?_

As the man turned to him, Izuku realized that he was about to find out. He stumbled back as the man lunged forward, malicious intent radiating off of him. “Scram, Brat.” He said, only sparing him a quick glance before he refocused on the woman. For a moment, his instincts seized him. _Fight or Flight?_ He had a plan; it wasn’t a very good or thorough plan, but it was a plan. A plan he was feeling less and less confident in by the second. Izuku’s thoughts raced. Would he be putting his mom in danger, by doing this? If he was noticed, if he did too much, if this man was somehow linked to All For One, as unlikely as that seemed-

But he couldn’t just _leave_ her. Not when she looked so scared. Not when her wide green eyes reminded Izuku of his mother. He clenched his fist. “Let her go.” He demanded, but he couldn’t stop his voice from shaking. The man laughed cruelly. “What are you, a hero? Don’t think I won’t beat you to a pulp, kid.” Izuku didn’t doubt that for a second. He recognized the man’s expression; this was someone who liked hurting others. He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt either of them. He’d _enjoy_ it.

And just like that, Izuku’s mind was made up. He breathed in, planting his feet firmly on the concrete. “I’m not afraid of you.” He said. The man’s smirk twisted into something sadistic. “Oh? Aren’t you?” He snarled at the woman, who cried out, sliding to the floor with a whimper. Anger burned hot in Izuku’s gut. He gritted his teeth, glaring at the man. “Last chance, Kid.” The criminal spat. Izuku braced himself.

“Funny.” He said, activating _Disappear_. “I was about to say the same thing.” Izuku knew the exact moment he went invisible. The man’s eyes widened, something like fear flickering in them. It only lasted for a moment, though. The criminal schooled his expression into something brave, scoffing. “What? You think an invisibility quirk is going to scare me?” Izuku remained silent, creeping closer. The man spun around, knife outstretched. “Well?! Don’t come any closer, kid!” Still no response. The man growled, yanking the woman up and holding his hands above her arms threateningly. “Come on, now, _Hero_! Show yourself!”

Izuku kicked him in the back of the head.

It wasn’t a very _heroic_ move. But it knocked the man unconscious, and more importantly, knocked his quirk out of function. That was what mattered. With the criminal down, Izuku deactivated his quirk, watching as the woman’s eyes widened at his reappearance. “A-Are you okay?” He asked, feeling his confidence slip away. The woman hesitated, then nodded. Izuku breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, good-” He spared a glance at the man’s limp body, “Um, do you need help? Getting home, I mean?” Another glance and a wince. “Actually, he probably needs to go to the hospital.” Izuku started to pull his phone out, but stopped when he saw the woman was already calling. His hands shook as he repocketed the phone.

“The police will take care of everything.” Izuku said, looking around. His gaze zeroed in on a nearby restaurant. Izuku pointed. “Um, you can wait over there! It should be safe.” The woman followed his gaze, nodding slowly. “Thank you.” She said, looking like she was just coming out of a trance. “Thank you. Who-Who are you?” Izuku’s mouth snapped shut. He shook his head. _I shouldn’t have done that,_ he thought, taking a moment to drown in paranoia, _That was risky. And dangerous. And mom will be so mad._

“I shouldn’t…” Izuku began, sending her a pleading look. The woman seemed to notice his discomfort, because she nodded quickly. “Right. Okay. Well, I’m Sachi.” The newly introduced Sachi began to dig through her purse, pulling out a wad of cash. It took a moment for it to click, but when it did, Izuku shook his head quickly. “I can’t, it wouldn’t be right.” Sachi continued to hold it out. “You’d be given a vigilantism charge, right? That’s why you can’t stay until the cops come?” It was far more complicated than that, but Izuku nodded anyway. “I won’t say anything, but please, just take it. You _saved_ me. I have to repay you somehow.”

 _Heroes don’t take the money of the people they save,_ Izuku thought. Then, _But I really need it._ He wasn’t a hero yet. Maybe this could be an exception? Since he was putting himself in danger. He reached out slowly, taking the money with shaking hands. Sachi smiled. “Thank you.” Izuku said, mouth open as he tried to find the words. “Just. Thank you.”

Sachi gave him a weak smile. Izuku found himself returning it, despite himself. The moment was shattered by the sound of sirens. The ten year old’s eyes widened, and he quickly pocketed the money, all reservations forgotten as the panic set in. “I have to go.” Izuku said, sparing one last glance at the unconscious man, “I have to go now.” Sachi nodded, moving out of the way as Izuku fled the alley. He ran until he could no longer hear the sirens.

* * *

[Three years ago - Later that Night]

* * *

Izuku reached his house in record time.   
  


“Mom!” He called, pushing the door open and stumbling into the entryway. “Mom?” Inko appeared in a second, eyebrows drawn together with worry. At his appearance, her eyes widened with fear “Izuku?!” She crossed the house in quick strides, taking his face in her hands. “What happened? Are you hurt?” Izuku quickly shook his head. “No, No, I’m fine.” He looked down at his blood-stained sneakers. “I-I saved someone?” His mom pulled back, eyes confused. “Saved who?”

Izuku shifted on his feet nervously. “Her name is Sachi?” Inko’s eyes grew darker. “Izuku, does she know who you are?” _Do we need to disappear again?_ Izuku shook his head. “No. She didn’t see anything.” Inko sighed in relief, rubbing at her temples. “Okay. Okay. Come sit down.”

Fifteen minutes later, they had settled into a tense silence. Izuku absentmindedly stirred his soba, trying to ignore Inko’s heated gaze. He knew that look. After the fire, he had seen it all the time. She was thinking- or planning. Izuku didn’t know which.

His answer came as Inko slid into the chair across from him, reaching out to intertwine their fingers. Izuku gave her a quizzical look. “Honey.” She said, searching his expression “We need to talk.” He nodded slowly. “Okay? Is this about me saving Sachi? I promise she didn’t see anything-“ His mother shook her head, waving her hands in front of her. “No, No, it’s not about that. Or, it isn’t _only_ about that.”

Okay? Izuku thought, tilting his head. “Okay. Um, then what is it about?” His mom smiled at him, but it wasn’t a real smile. It was anxious. Izuku’s stomach churned at the sight. _Is she going to make us leave again?_ Izuku didn’t want to leave. It had taken him years to feel safe after the fire, and even still he was never quite comfortable. There was always the question of when the ground would collapse under him.

Izuku told himself he would be prepared. But he wasn’t prepared for this. Not now. Not today. _I don’t want to leave._ Izuku thought, But _if I have to, I’ll just be a hero somewhere else._ Somewhere _safe._

Inko’s mouth was pressed into a thin line. She looked like she was about to cry. Izuku stayed silent, too afraid to ask what was wrong, until at last she collected herself and looked him straight in the eyes. “Izuku.” She said, voice hoarse, “I know how much you love to help people.”

And oh, that was dangerous territory. She had that familiar, deranged look in her eye that Izuku recognized from after the fire. It was the look she gave him when explained they weren’t going back- that they could never go back, as long as they lived. It made Izuku feel like he was standing on the edge of a very steep cliff; like one word could knock him off balance, off the edge. It made him feel like he was falling.

“I do.” Izuku forced himself to say. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” A tear slipped down his mother’s cheek. Izuku’s heart landed in his stomach. “I know, honey, but-” She wiped her face, taking in a shaky breath. “Being in the public eye, it’s too risky. We have to stay safe.”

He didn’t understand what was happening. Were they leaving? Getting new names? Appearances? _Again_? Izuku hated that. Hated packing his life up in boxes. But if that’s what was happening, Izuku could live with that. He had done it before. He just wished his mom would come out and say it, instead of _looking_ at him like that.

“Mom,” Izuku started nervously. “I don’t understand. What’s going on? What does this have to do with-” _With my dream?_ , he wanted to say, but couldn’t force the words out. They hadn’t talked about this in years. Always skirting around the topic, ever since Izuku could remember. To talk about it now, _today_ , specifically, after all these years? It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

Inko looked at him with watery eyes. “Izuku. Baby. I-I’m sorry.” Izuku shook his head. _You don’t need to be sorry. Why are you sorry?_ He reached out, but she was already pulling back, wiping at her eyes. “Y-You can’t be a hero.”

Oh. _Oh_. The realization was like drowning; like desperately trying to swim, only to realize you were too far from the surface. Izuku opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head slowly. This-this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening, this was all he had ever wanted, and now, _what_ , it was on the list of _another_ thing his father had taken from him?

Izuku hated him. He _hated_ him- he, _he_ \- He was crying. He was crying, and his mother was reaching out, trying to brush away his tears, babbling apologies, but all Izuku felt was rage. _I hate him. I hate him. I hate him, it isn’t fair, it isn’t fair!_ He wanted to scream. Wanted to throw something, wanted to pound his fists onto the table like a child. “I’m so sorry, Izuku!“ Inko said, now openly crying. _Oh._

(In another life, Izuku had been diagnosed as quirkless.)

(In another life, he never knew his father, even though he was just a man.)

(In another life, he was a Deku. Worthless. Useless.)

(In another life, he gained power beyond his wildest dreams.)

(In another life, he is four when his mother tells him he can’t be a hero.)

(In this life, he is ten. Somehow, it hurts more.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I really disappeared there for a couple weeks, didn’t I? But I’m back, and hopefully there won’t be that much of a pause between chapters (she says, as she knows she’ll probably develop severe writers block and is jinxing herself as she says this) Anyway, please comment, I need them to live. 
> 
> Also, if you caught the reference with Sachi, I love you.


	5. Kacchan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Suffocation (At the end of the chapter.)

Katsuki Bakugou was powerful. 

  
He knew that. Everyone did. The moment Katsuki got his quirk, everyone’s eyes were on him. And they all voiced their approval. How strong he was, how great his grades were, how he had the most potential out of everyone in their class. Katsuki loved the attention. Being admired by everyone- that just proved that he was the best. That he was _always_ going to be the best. 

Then Mikumo got his quirk, and everything changed. Suddenly, everything was about Mikumo. _He_ was the strongest, _he_ was the smartest, and _he_ was the one who was going to be at the top. But he didn’t flaunt it like Katsuki had. In fact, he did the _opposite_ of flaunting it. The boy never lost his soft spoken demeanor. He never got overconfident, or cruel. 

He was exactly the same. And when teachers remarked on his _heroic_ spirit, the boy’s face would light up with pure joy. Not pride. Not confidence. Not smugness. It was _infuriating_ . Katsuki wanted to _explode_ . Because Mikumo had just been _Mikumo,_ his best friend, and now he was an obstacle Katsuki could never overcome. 

He told the old hag as such, and she only smiled. “Just be friendly!” She had said, sounding so pleased that Katsuki wanted to break the nearest vase. “Mikumo-kun’s your _friend_. You both have powerful quirks, so you can be a hero duo!” Katsuki growled, desperately trying to think of an argument. He couldn’t find one. “Fine, Fine!” He replied, rolling his eyes as he hopped off the chair, ignoring his mom’s calls to finish his dinner. 

“Mikumo!” He said the next day, rushing to walk shoulder to shoulder with the other boy. Mikumo gave him his signature smile, turning to face him. “Hey, Kacchan! What’s going on?” Katsuki gave him a wolfish grin. “We should start training together after school. We’re going to be heroes, so we’ve gotta be strong!” Mikumo _beams_ at him, nodding excitedly. “Yeah! We can work on hand to hand, and our quirks if no one is watching!” Katsuki wants to comment on that last part, but Mikumo is continuing before he can really break it down. “Let’s do it after school!” 

And so they do. Every Monday and Friday, they practice their quirks at Auntie’s house, carefully watched by Mikumo’s father, who Katsuki suspects is the reason for Mikumo’s _lax_ views on quirk laws. He watches Katsuki like a hawk- especially when he uses his quirk. It creeps him out. He doesn’t say anything to Mikumo, though. He isn’t willing to see him cry. 

(He was always such a crybaby. Katsuki would never admit it out loud, but he never really minded it.) 

* * *

They do the rest of their training after school, at the park near their neighborhood. It’s just hand to hand. Mikumo is good at it- like he’s good at everything, somehow, and it never fails to make Katsuki’s blood boil- and they spar until it gets dark. _I’ll be better than him,_ Katsuki swears, as he lies in the grass, muscles aching. _I’ll be better than him, I’ll be the best._

Mikumo isn’t only satisfied with training. He insists on coming to Katsuki’s house every weekend, where he usually ambushes him with an All-Might DVD set. _Is it an ambush if you know it’s coming, Kacchan?_ Katsuki throws a pillow at his face. Mikumo doesn’t stop laughing until they’ve started the movie. Later, Auntie Inko finds them acting out the scenes under a blanket fort. She snaps a picture with a fond smile. 

That’s how it continues. Things go well, until they don’t. 

One of the extras- a boy with a quirk involving bees- asks Mikumo if he can join their training sessions. And he actually _seems_ to consider it. Which prompts Katsuki to _explode. Literally_ . His palms spark as he yells, rushing forward just as the boy cowers and stumbles back. The kid doesn’t stand a chance against Katsuki; his quirk wouldn’t pass as anything but a minor inconvenience for his opponent, _especially_ with how little of control he had over it. In fact, it might even be a _nuisance_ on the field. He isn’t suited to be a hero, and Katsuki is going to tell him that. 

Or at least, he wasn’t going to, until Mikumo stepped right in front of him. “Stop!” Mikumo shouts- _actually_ shouts, Katsuki feels a shot of terror run through him- and stares Katsuki right in the eyes, holding up both his hands. He nods to the cowering boy behind him, wordlessly telling him to leave. The kid doesn’t have to be told twice; he practically trips over himself trying to get as far away as possible. When he’s gone, Mikumo turns to him. Katsuki opens his mouth, maybe to argue, but the other boy _growls_. His mouth snaps shut. “Heroes.” Mikumo starts, fists clenched “Don’t hurt people.”

Katsuki has to remind himself that Mikumo can be very, very scary. He had never been the target of Mikumo’s rage before; that went to bullies, and Katsuki _wasn’t_ a bully. _Was he?_ No, he was just trying to scare him off, but- _Heroes don’t hurt people._ Katsuki felt a sudden flush of shame, and he growled, staring intently at the floor. “I was just trying to scare him off.” He said. “I wasn’t going to- _hurt_ him, hurt him.” 

Mikumo shook his head. “You were ready to attack, Kacchan. I saw you.” Katsuki growled again, clenching his fists. “That’s not it-” He wasn’t thinking about injuring the extra- he was just _reacting._ Because everyone _liked_ Mikumo, now. He wasn’t _only_ Katsuki’s friend. If he loosened his grip, one of the extras would come and sweep Mikumo away. Tears sting at his eyes. Mikumo’s eyes soften slightly. “Kacchan.” 

Katsuki snaps his head up, clenching his fists. “He’s trying to steal you, they all are!” He heaves in a breath. “And you were my friend first, and we’re going to be heroes together, and they _can’t_ steal you!” He’s angry, but beyond that, he’s afraid. Katsuki isn’t the strongest person around anymore. Mikumo could just decide to be someone else’s best friend. He could just leave Katsuki behind, and he _won’t_ let that happen. Mikumo’s eyes soften again. 

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” he says patiently. Katsuki chokes back his tears, roughly wiping his face. “He’s not _stealing_ me. He’s just trying to be friends.” _But you’re my friend!_ Katsuki wants to shout. _And that’s our training!_ He doesn’t say it. His anger is quickly giving way to shame, and he just wants to go _home._

“If we hurt people, we’re no better than villains.” Mikumo says, then continues like he hasn’t just shattered Katsuki’s entire worldview. “Heroes only use violence to subdue villains, not to take revenge. Not because they’re angry. If they did that, they aren’t really heroes. They’re just powerful. And anyone can be powerful.” 

“How-” Katsuki shakes his head, “How do you even know all of this stuff, anyway?!” Mikumo smiles, and Katsuki is once again struck with whiplash. “Some of it from All-Might.” He confesses, tilting his head from side to side. “Some of it from my dad.” _Huh. Guess the old man knows something._ Katsuki uncurls his fists, reaching up to roughly brush at his eyes. “Ugh- Now you’ve got me thinking deep and everything.” 

Mikumo giggles. “Sorry. Will you remember what I said?” Katsuki doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget. He nods. Mikumo’s smile widens until it’s almost blinding. “Good. Now come on, the sooner you apologize the sooner we can play with Haruto-Chan!” 

(Katsuki does end up apologizing, if only to get Mikumo off his back. Haruto’s shaky smile sticks with him for a while.) 

* * *

The third time Mikumo shakes Katsuki’s world is the last. He wakes to distant sirens. Katsuki rolls out of bed, discarding the comforter and stumbling into the living room. “Hag, where are you?” No response. The house is empty, and _quiet,_ too, apart from the news still playing on the TV. Blankets are strewn over the couches, carelessly abandoned in a hurry. A bowl of popcorn is spilled all over the floor, like someone dropped it in surprise. Katsuki turns the TV off. The house is even more eerie without it. 

“Hag?” He tries again, louder this time. “Old man?” The house remains silent. Katsuki curses, running across the house to fling the door open. It hits the wall with a _clack,_ and then he’s outside. He sucks in a breath. Cold air hits his face as he stumbles forward, down their driveway and onto the worn city street. 

He smells the smoke a second before he sees the fire. He instinctively covers his mouth, searching desperately for the source. The moment he sees it, it’s etched into his mind forever. Because Mikumo’s house is on fire. He doesn’t have time to process it before his feet are already moving, taking him to the crowd gathered around the flaming building. As he gets closer, the crowd gets louder. And he realizes some of the voices are crying. 

“Inko! Mikumo!” Katsuki spins around, desperately trying to find the source of the voice. He catches a flash of desperate red eyes and runs. “Mom!” Katsuki skids to a stop in front of them. “Where’s Mikumo and Auntie?!” Mitsuki’s eyes widened in horror. “K-Katsuki?! Masaru, get him out of here!” He feels a hand on his arm, tugging him back to the house, but Katsuki can’t focus on it. 

“Wha-” He inhales again, but devolves into a coughing fit, covering his mouth to block the smoke. “Masaru!” Mitsuki cries, more urgently this time. Hands wrap around Katsuki’s waist, and he’s hoisted up, high enough that he can peer out at the burning house. Katsuki’s stomach drops. It takes him a moment to realize he’s being carried away. “No!” Katsuki shouted, growling and kicking. “No! Mikumo and Auntie are still in _there_!” 

Tears cloud his vision, making the reds and oranges mix with the dark blue of the sky. Katsuki screams and then sobs, burying his face in his father’s shoulder as he clutches his shirt like a lifeline. 

“The Heroes are here!” Someone cries. The crowd shifts, parting like a sea as the Heroes rush forward, straight into the fire. It’s all Katsuki sees before the front door swings shut. He’s placed on the couch, in the middle of a pile of All-Might themed blankets. Katsuki can only think of how much Mikumo likes them. Of how many nights they’ve spent on this couch, watching hero broadcasts until midnight. 

“Katsuki, I’m going to get your mother, stay here, okay?!” He doesn’t wait for a reply, bolting towards the door. _Clack._ Katsuki inhales. Exhales. Forces himself to stand. The door to his room is still open. Katsuki stops in the doorway. He hesitates. Inhales. Exhales. He reaches for the light. _Click._ The artificial yellow light is normally overwhelming, but it can’t compare to real flame. Katsuki’s eyes burn. 

He takes a step. And then another. And then another, and he crouches down to reach a frame on the shelf of his desk. Dust flies where his fingers brush it. Katsuki’s hands tremble as he holds it. He inhales. Exhales. Turns the frame over in his hands. His breath catches in his throat. 

He recognizes the picture immediately. It’s taken in the schoolyard; Katsuki can see the jungle-gym in the background. Mikumo is lying in the grass, grinning. Katsuki is right next to him. They both have grass stains all over their clothes. 

_“You were actually close that time!” Mikumo said, beaming. “You’ll get it soon!”_

_“Yeah, I will!” Katsuki smirked proudly. “And you’d better be ready to taste dirt!”_

_“I wouldn’t go that far, Kacchan!” Mikumo shrieked as Katsuki tackled him, laughing hysterically. “There.” Katsuki said. “You’ve tasted dirt.”_

_“Boys, what are you- You know what, I don’t even want to know.” The boys gave her matching grins. “Sorry, Nakamura-San.”_

_The woman studied both of them, a small smile on her face. Then, she pulled out her phone. “Smile for the yearbook, and you can get back to it?” Mikumo grinned, leaning into Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki scoffed, but threw a peace sign up in the air._

_“Cheese!”_

Katsuki blinks. Once, twice, but it does nothing to stop the tears from falling. He crouches down again, carefully placing the frame back on the shelf. He takes another step, silently collapsing onto his mattress. He presses his face into the pillow, shifting so that he can see through the blinds. The house is still burning. Heroes have swarmed the place. But no one is coming out. 

* * *

  
Katsuki is six, and sitting in a secluded area of a police station. A blanket is wrapped around his shoulders- All Might themed. It is- _was_ \- Mikumo’s favorite. To Katsuki, it doesn’t feel like a comfort. It feels like suffocating. But he can’t bring himself to let go. 

“I’m sorry.” The officer in front of them says, and Mitsuki bursts into tears. Katsuki feels nauseous. They had stopped the fire. They had stopped the fire, so why was Mikumo not here? Why was Auntie not here? _It’s not fair. Why isn’t it fair, it’s supposed to be fair!_ Mikumo wasn’t a criminal. He wasn’t bad, he didn’t deserve to _die_. He didn’t deserve any of this. And yet it had happened anyway. 

“Katsuki, honey, _breathe.”_ A gentle voice coaxes. Katsuki tries. It comes out more like a sob, and his father makes a sympathetic noise, pulling him close. The officer sighs. “The fire completely destroyed the building. Several of the support beams came loose, and blocked the heroes. By the time the fire was put out, and it was cleared-” He closed his eyes, looking tired. “It was too late.” 

“How-” His mom starts, voice shaking. “How did it start?” A Manila folder is placed on the table. The officer flips it open, giving the family a sympathetic look. “The kitchen is the most charred area. It’s likely that the fire started there, before spreading to the rest of the house.” His mom nods, sitting back in her chair. Katsuki doesn’t miss her shaking hands. 

“And” Katsuki takes another breath in. “They didn’t find them?” _Their bodies,_ Katsuki means. He can’t bring himself to say it. The officer seems to understand anyway, though, because he looks at him with pained eyes. “They didn’t find their remains. But with the fire burning so intense, that’s not so unusual.” 

“So we aren’t even going to get to bury them?” The words don’t come from Katsuki. They come from his mother. She’s crying, he notices- and she _never_ cries. Not around him, at least. It feels wrong. And Katsuki hates it. He hates a lot of things, these days. Again, the officer sighs. “Most likely not.” 

Eventually, they finish. Katsuki stands up, clutching the blanket tighter. His parents follow him out of the office. When they get home, Mitsuki plasters on a fake smile, and suggests they watch a movie. It doesn’t feel the same without Mikumo. 

* * *

He gets a week off of school. _Time to adjust,_ the principal says, looking at him with sickly sweet pity. Katsuki resists the urge to punch him in the face - Mikumo would be sad if he saw, and Katsuki isn’t planning on making his friend sad from the afterlife. Instead, he clenches his fist, and gathers every bit of patience he has. It’s not much. They end up leaving the meeting early, due to the fact that Katsuki’s hands start sparking half-way through. The Hag doesn’t scold him this time- she looks too exhausted for that. The ride home is completely silent. 

Katsuki spends most of the next week at home, wrapped in layers of thick blankets. On Monday- the day they used to train - Katsuki pulls up an article on the fire and rereads it until his eyes sting. _It’s not fair._ If the Hag notices, she doesn’t say anything- she’s too busy sending him guilty looks. Katsuki hates it. He refreshes the article. Again, and again, and again. The charred remains of Mikumo’s home flash behind his eyelids. 

Katsuki takes a deep breath. Then another. And then, suddenly, he erupts- screaming and throwing and ripping and tearing and- His door is thrown open, and he’s wrapped in a tight embrace. Katsuki’s scream ends in an anguished sob. He buries his face in his mother’s chest, soaking her shirt with tears. She doesn’t seem to mind. “It isn’t _fair_ .” He gasps out. Someone’s hand rests on his back, rubbing soothing circles. “I’m so _sorry_ , Katsuki.” His mother chokes out.

It’s not enough. 

* * *

“Katsuki.” 

Katsuki is seven, and sitting in a cramped therapist's office. The woman looks at him; not with pity, but with an analytical gaze. Her orange eyes are filled with clarity. _Just like Mikumo’s,_ Katsuki thinks, and finds himself trusting her a little more. Not that much, though; He keeps his gaze trained on the wall behind her, like the lack of eye contact can stop her from staring into his soul. She sighs, sitting up in her chair. 

“We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want us to.” She says. Yeah, right. Katsuki knows what this is about. The Hag wants him to get over Mikumo. Or stop being angry about it. She had been patient at first, but after one too many “Outbursts.”, Katsuki had ended up here. Whatever. They couldn’t _make_ him talk about anything. 

“I’m serious. If you want, we can sit in silence the whole time.” This time, Katsuki does look at her. She smiles softly. “I get it. Not wanting to talk. I was the same way at first.” _At first?_ At Katsuki’s confused expression, she elaborates. “I lost my sister to a Villian attack when I was eight.” Katsuki sucks in a breath as she continues. “At first, it was on everyone’s minds. My parents, my classmates; they all kept bringing it up. I wanted to forget, and they wouldn’t let me. So I got angry.” 

Katsuki shook his head. “I don’t want to forget him- that’s exactly the problem, everyone else does!” She nodded again. “Sometimes people want different things. At first, I wanted to forget, or I wanted everything to go back to normal. But then, as time went on, and people started to move on, I wanted the exact opposite. I felt like I was losing my sister by moving on from her loss. I felt like everybody else was trying to erase her.” 

Katsuki shifted in his seat, crossing his arms. That was accurate- even if he’d never admit it. Everyone was working so hard to ‘Move on’ from Mikumo and Auntie. It was like they didn’t want to remember them at all. The Hag had even tried to move their photos up to the attic- _tried,_ because Katsuki had gotten so angry he had ended up here. In this office. Across from _her_. 

Her eyes softened. “And that’s where you stand, isn’t it? You feel like everybody is trying to forget.” Katsuki looked at the floor. Fine, so maybe she did understand. That didn’t mean Katsuki could trust her- It didn’t mean he had to listen to her, either. She didn’t know anything about him, or his _grief._ For all he knew, she was reading from a script- pretending that she cared, that she knew what it was like, when really, she knew nothing. Maybe her story wasn’t even real! 

The thought made him furious. Katsuki clenched his fists, biting his lip until he could taste copper. No one ever understood what he was feeling- they all pretended they did, but they didn’t. If they did, they wouldn’t look at him with pity. They wouldn’t send him here, like his insistence on remembering Mikumo and Auntie was a problem that needed to be solved. 

Katsuki opened his mouth, growled, and then closed it again. “You don’t know anything.” She didn’t know him- _She didn’t._ Unless she did. Unless she was the only one who could. Katsuki took a deep breath. “I just-” his eyes stung. “I don’t want to move on, or whatever! That’s just a fancy way to talk about forgetting someone! I-” Katsuki sucked in a breath, ducking his head. “I don’t _want_ to forget.” 

“You don’t have to.” Katsuki meets her gaze head on. Her eyes are hazed over by understanding. “You don’t have to forget him. And you don’t have to move on, not until you’re ready.” She leans forward, folding her hands in her lap. “Everyone processes things at their own pace. I’m not going to tell you to grieve faster, Katsuki, because that would make me a terrible therapist. I’m only here to help you better cope as you go through this process.” She offered him a small smile. “Can you trust me to do that?”

Maybe he could. Slowly, Katsuki nodded, watching as the woman’s eyes sparkled. “Okay then.” She said. “I’d like to show you something.” She knelt down, opening one of the table’s drawers and pulling out a plain box. Katsuki leaned forward. “What is that?” He asked, taking it from her outstretched hand. She smiled. “This, Katsuki, is what you’re going to be working on.” 

Katsuki opened it, reaching out towards the first thing that caught his eye. It was a journal. Specifically, a plain white journal, with at _least_ two hundred pages. Katsuki looked up at her quizzically. Her mouth quirked up. “It’s a journal.” He said. She nodded. “If you’re about to tell me to _write_ about my _feelings-_ ” the woman shook her head. “I’m not going to _tell_ you to do anything, Katsuki. It’s a journal. You can do whatever you want with it.” 

Katsuki eyed her suspiciously. “Whatever I want?” 

“Whatever you want. I have another client that likes to use it for painting; The journal is lined, so she glues the finished paintings in, but she has at least fifty finished pages. It’s like a miniature museum.” 

That didn’t sound _too_ bad. Katsuki could probably deal with an art-journal- he wasn’t that big on painting, but the Hag liked to sketch, she could show him. If that was the expectation- 

“Or, you could use it for school. Or for training. Or you can leave it blank, or rip out and explode each of the pages. It’s your choice, Katsuki.” Her eyes softened. “Whatever you want.” She held his gaze for a moment, and then ducked her head, nodding to the box again. “Look at the rest.” 

Katsuki dug through the box. The first few things seemed to be geared around the journal- a sticker sheet, a pack of markers, and a few containers of washable paint. “Do you do this for everyone?” Katsuki asked. The therapist hummed. “Half of the effort is from your parents, but yes. I suppose I’m a bit of an anomaly when it comes to therapy. I have my own office, and it’s quite successful, but I’d rather put the money into my clients than have it sit there with no purpose.” She nodded again. “There’s one more thing. It’s special. Open it.” 

Katsuki nodded slowly, moving the tissue paper to reveal- Oh. _Oh._ His hands shook. Because at the bottom of the box, wrapped in tissue paper, was a figure of All Might. _Mikumo’s_ figure of All-Might. 

Katsuki thought he _must_ have hesitated, but when he snapped back into reality the figurine was in his hands. His eyes watered. “How-” Katsuki’s voice was raw and scratchy “How did you get this?” 

“Your parents- they found it between the couch cushions, a few days after the fire. Mikumo must have left it there when you two were playing.” Katsuki’s hands shook. He turned the figure over in his hands, examining it. _Golden age._ Mikumo’s favorite was a silver age figure. 

Okay, so it wasn’t the one Mikumo always carried around. That was alright- it meant that Mikumo had it with him when he- during the fire. Mikumo needed that figure more than he did. He had needed All might with him when- No. Katsuki wasn’t going to think about that. He _wasn’t._ The therapist sighed, gently resting a hand on his knee. “I can help you get through this, Katsuki.” She said softly. “But I need you to trust me.” 

Katsuki’s eyes stung. He forced himself to nod. “Okay.” The woman said. “Let’s get started.”

* * *

Katsuki Bakugou was powerful.   
  
He knew it. Everyone did. At four, and at six, and now, at thirteen, with sharp red eyes and determination to match. He was going to be a hero. And he was going to be strong enough to run into raging fires, and come out with kids that couldn’t fight with flames. 

That wasn’t today. Today, he was just thirteen, and fighting villains was above his pay-grade. That didn’t stop Villains, though. It encouraged them. Which was how Katsuki ended up trying to fight sludge with explosions. It started when he was walking home from school. 

“Hey, Kid!” 

Katsuki looked up. The sludge loomed over him, casting a dark shadow. Narrow yellow eyes gleamed with malice. “W-Who-” Katsuki forced out, voice hoarse. “Who the hell are you?” 

The sludge shifted, sharp teeth glinting in the light. “Well, what do we have here?” His eyes travelled over Katsuki, sizing him up. “A medium sized skinsuit. Looks like it’s my lucky day.” _Shit._ Katsuki backed up, red eyes scanning the perimeter. No heroes. _Shit. Shit!_ The sludge edged closer. Katsuki gritted his teeth. 

“Hey!-” Katsuki shouted, and then he was drowning. Sludge filled his lungs, and he choked, desperately trying to force his way through. The slime was too fluid for him to get a solid grip; it slipped in and out of his hands as he struggled. His throat _screamed_ under the pressure. The sludge smelled overwhelmingly like sewer water. “Help!” Katsuki tried to scream, but only inhaled another mouthful of sludge. 

People were shouting, now. They rushed in from the edges of his vision, tailed by heroes cloaked in red and blue and green and white and- Katsuki was dizzy. His hands sparked furiously as he tried to claw his way free, but the villain didn’t seem affected by it at all. _Shit!_ Katsuki had seen heroes who didn’t engage with villains, but he never understood them. Not until now. His quirk was useless against this guy! Even with his maximum firepower, he didn’t stand a chance once he was already incapacitated. _Shit. Shit. Shit!_   
  
Panic rose in him, overwhelming in its intensity. He couldn’t fight this! He couldn’t even get away! He was just stuck here, waiting for the blurry silhouettes to do something and _help_ him. They weren’t suited for this? Who was? Where the hell were the heroes that could _fight_ this guy? Where was All-Might? _Get it together, Katsuki. Focus!_ He shuddered, forcing his quirk down. _Just wait_ , he thought. _Just wait for the heroes to come._ They’ll come. They have to come.  
  
_Like they came for Mikumo?_

Forget it. He needed to get out of here. He needed to- there had to be a way to- He breathed in sharply as the sludge momentarily cleared ”Get me-“ He gasped out. “Help-” The sludge shifted again, pulling him back in. This time, when he inhaled, his breath ended with a rasping cough. _Is this-_ He was running out of air, he was suffocating- _Is this what Mikumo- Is this what Mikumo felt when he-?_

His vision flickered. In and out, in and out, over and over until it settled on a faded not-quite black, colors mixing with colors and _oh god, I’m going to die here._ Red and pain and blue and pain and green and pain and white and pain and- and yellow. Yellow and safety. Yellow and hope. Yellow and a shouted proclamation, a reassurance to anyone in danger. _It’s fine now. Why?_  
  
_“_ I am here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooooo! We got a Katsuki chapter! We did it folks, we did it! It only took like a month to write and refine, but we did it! Merry Christmas guys, it truly is a miracle! 
> 
> Please comment and give Kudos if you like it! I will update whenever I can, hopefully once every few weeks, but we’ll see how it goes. Thank you to @Phantomessangel for your support!


	6. Echo

“Mikumo.” 

  
The three year old shrieked, ducking behind the wall. The floor creaked as he excitedly fidgeted, a wide smile on his face. His father made a little hum, feigning confusion. “Now, where did he go?” He asked the empty air, placing a hand on his chin. Mikumo covered his mouth to hide a giggle. “In the kitchen, perhaps?” The man said, slowly approaching the counter. He lifted the lid off the glass cookie jar, plucking one from the inside. “Hm.” He sniffed the cookie. “I wonder if this will draw him out? He does love chocolate chip cookies.” 

Mikumo did want that cookie. He wanted it more than anything! But if he took the cookie, Papa would be mad that he stayed up! The three year old imitated his father’s gesture, pouting. So what should he do? Take the cookie or stay hidden? What would Papa tell him to do? Oh, no! He was hiding from Papa, he couldn’t ask! “No?” Papa resealed the cookie jar, carefully placing the cookie on a napkin. “Just in case.” He reasoned. 

Next, he went to his Mama’s room. The door didn’t creak as it opened- his Papa’s hands glowed a very faint blue. Mikumo gasped quietly. A quirk! He was using a quirk! Ooh, it was pretty! He had a million billion questions, and- he couldn’t ask them. He pouted again. This was no fun! Papa said hiding was important, but it was _so_ hard to wait! Maybe if he just came out this time- No! No. Papa would be happy with him if he could stay hidden. He loved it when Mikumo worked on- What was the word? Ste-? Stealth! It was _stealth._ It was a fancy word for hiding, but Papa liked it, so Mikumo liked it too! 

He didn’t like the actual _stealthy_ -stuff, though. All-Might wasn’t quiet! He just came in with a _bang!_ Or a _crash!_ And he _always_ made the bad guys go away. It was awesome! Papa didn’t seem to think so, though. He got this mad look in his eye, like when he got a phone call about his job! Mikumo didn’t like that look. Papa looked almost _scary_ like that. _Almost,_ because Papa could never be scary. Not to Mikumo. He could be Cle... Cle… Clever! Papa could be _clever!_

He wanted Papa to tell him he was _clever_ too, for hiding! He could keep all the villains away! He didn’t even need a quirk! But he did want one- he really, really, really, _really_ wanted one! Wanted one as much as he wanted that cookie, unguarded on the counter- He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. He needed to _focus._ He was on a mission! Except that cookie looked _so_ tasty- and Papa was still in Mama’s room. Checking on her, like he always did. Mikumo smiled, and then began to tip-toe across the room. 

He was halfway to the cookie jar when he was lifted up - not by a set of hands, but by a quirk. Mikumo squealed delightedly, flapping around in the air as he was spun around. “Well.” His Papa’s voice was fond. “It seems I found you.” Mikumo beamed, plans of cookie-stealing forgotten. “Hi, Papa.” His Papa smiled back, reaching out to take him in his arms. Mikumo leaned into his shoulder. It was so warm. So solid. Not quite kind, but Papa would work on that. “I missed you.” Mikumo whispered into his Papa’s shoulder. Papa shifted, brushing a curl behind Mikumo’s ear. 

“I missed you too, little one.” He said, then paused, placing a hand on his chin. “I got a new quirk today. Would you like to see it?” Was that even a question? Mikumo _loved_ quirks! “Yes! Yes!” Mikumo cheered, beaming up at his Papa. “Show me! Please, Papa, show me!” His Papa laughed. “Okay then. I certainly appreciate the enthusiasm. You’re just like me, aren’t you, Mikumo?” Mikumo nodded furiously. Of course he was like Papa! That’s all he ever wanted! 

“Alright. I’m going to have to put you down.” Mikumo pouted, but nodded. Papa placed him on the counter. Right next to the cookie. Mikumo’s eyes widened. He didn’t notice Papa’s mouth twisting into a small smirk. As soon as his Papa turned his attention away from him, Mikumo snatched the cookie from the plate, shoving it into his mouth. But when he looked back to Papa, there was no one there. 

“Papa?” Mikumo asked, frowning. No response. Mikumo carefully hopped off the counter, using the wooden stepping stool to land safely on the ground. “Papa?” He tried again. Reached forward, into the empty space. Tried to grasp at empty air. The spot where his Papa was remained empty. Mikumo whimpered. He didn’t like this.“Okay, Okay-” he mumbled nervously, pacing the room. “What’s the quirk. What’s the quirk?” Was Papa even here? Did he leave him? 

No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. “I-In” Mikumo started, squeezing his eyes shut. What was the word? “I-Invis-Invisibility?” No. Mikumo would have felt him. He would be ta-tan-tangible. Invisible people weren’t In-Intangible. Next one. “Okay, Okay. Um…” Mikumo searched the room quickly, throwing pillows and climbing on couches. “Ilu-Ilusions?” Silence. Mikumo didn’t like this. He wanted Papa back. “S-Stay... C-Calm.” Mikumo echoed his fathers words. “T-Think. Think. L-Logical. B-Be logical.” 

Back to the living room, where he stood in the center and tried to hold back his tears. Next one. “T-Tele-” Please not this one. “T-Teleport-Teleportation?” No response. This wasn’t fun anymore. Mikumo wanted it to stop. But he didn’t want to disappoint Papa. He didn’t, but- “Papa!” Mikumo cried. “I wanna stop.” 

And then he was there. Standing right in front of him. Mikumo flung himself into his Papa’s arms, clinging tightly to his shirt. Papa sighed, carrying him across the room. He was placed on the couch. “I’m sorry, little one.” Papa said, voice dripping with sympathy. “You were doing so well, and I wanted you to see it through. Mikumo perked up. “R-Really? I-I was doing well?” Papa smiled, smoothing down his curls. “Of course you were, little one. You’re just like me, after all.” 

Just like Papa. Mikumo wiped away his tears, leaning back on the couch. “S-So, what was it? The quirk?” Papa hummed. “It grants you the ability of erasing yourself from perception. You can’t be seen or heard.” Mikumo’s anxiety only grew. That seemed scary. Invisibility was one thing, but not being able to be heard? If you could control it, that was really useful, but if you couldn’t, you would just- 

“Disappear.” Mikumo mumbled. “Hm?” His Papa leaned over. Mikumo fiddled with the hems of his shirt. “Like a magic show. The magi- _magician_ makes someone disappear. I-It matches the quirk.” Silence. And then, “Disappear.” Papa said slowly. “It does fit.” 

He looked at Mikumo with a satisfied smile. “It’s only right that you name your first quirk.” Mikumo’s eyes widened. “What-” Papa nodded. “My first- My first quirk?” Another nod. “But- I’m not four yet!”

“But you almost are.” Papa said, “It’s two days from now, isn’t it?” Mikumo nodded. Papa smiled at him. “Our family is known for manifesting their quirks on their fourth birthdays, if not earlier. It’ll be a birthday present.” Mikumo giggled. “I don’t think people normally get quirks for their birthday presents, Papa.” Papa ruffled his hair. “Well, you aren’t normal, are you?” Mikumo smiled. “Papa, don’t I need a-” _A quirk like All-Might’s_ “A strong quirk? Like making things fly or being super strong?” 

Papa hummed again. “You’ll get many of those over the years, Mikumo. You are my son. But you can not truly be prepared for battle until you have a form of defense. It’s more important than you know.” Mikumo pouted, but nodded. “Good.” Papa said. “Now. I do seem to recall setting a bedtime for Nine o’clock. Let’s follow it, shall we?” 

* * *

Izuku opened his eyes.

  
The first thing he registered was that he was in his bed. He hadn’t fallen asleep in some shady back alley, then. That was good. The second thing he registered was that it was morning. And very, very bright. He sat up, kicking the thick quilted blanket off of himself. They fell to the wooden floor in a heap. Izuku rubbed at his eyes, standing as his vision solidified. 

Light streamed in through his bedroom window, casting a shadow on the floor. The door was cracked slightly open. Izuku could barely make out the quiet voices coming from the room. He crossed the room in strides, pulling the door open. 

“Mom?” Izuku stepped into the living room, scanning his surroundings. There she was, watching TV from a barstool in the kitchen. At his call, she turned around and gave him a tired smile. Izuku noticed the bags under her eyes immediately. He frowned, moving across the room to take her hands in his. “What’s wrong?” 

She smiled at him, green eyes fond. “I’m alright, Izuku. It’s just- Well, you know how it is at night.” Ah. Nightmares, then. Izuku had those sometimes, when patrol was particularly rough, or something brought up a bad memory. He knew his mother had them a lot more frequently; he knew that she dreamed of them being dragged back to his father. And he saw the effect it had on her. 

Izuku gave her a sympathetic smile. “Did you try the tea? Or the melatonin?” She shrugged, nodding to the empty mug in the sink. Izuku’s heart sank. “And still nothing?” Inko nodded. Izuku sighed, leaning in to wrap her in a hug. “Sorry, mom.” He said. Inko shook her head firmly. “It’s not your fault, Izuku. It’s only _his.”_

Izuku knew exactly who _he_ was. He didn’t mention it out loud. They didn’t speak his name in the house, didn’t even mention him most of the time. At first, it had been an effort to separate themselves from their old lives. Now, it was just an effort to keep his mom- and possibly himself- from breaking down. His father continued to cast a shadow over their lives, even after eight years. It was wearing his mother down. 

Izuku hated that he couldn’t do anything to help. But most of all, he hated _him._ He couldn’t show that in front of his mom, though. She was under enough stress already. Instead, he gave her another soft smile, untangling their hands as he stepped further into the kitchen. “How about I make breakfast?” She looked at him, eyes unfocused. Then, “When did you get so big?” 

Izuku paused. Subtly placed both hands on the cold marble. Tried to ground himself. _Keep it together, Izuku._ He lifted his gaze up to his mom’s, pressing his lips together in a forced smile. _Don’t think about it._ His mouth was dry. Izuku tried to force the words out anyway. “I just want to take care of you, that’s all.” His mother smiled at him again. “You’ve always been so strong, Izuku.” 

His eyes stung. He nodded slowly, ducking under the counter. The wooden cabinets creaked as he opened them. First, the pan. Plain black. There were six, all in different sizes. Izuku had bought the whole set after a particularly risky- and rewarding- job. Normally, he would have considered it an unnecessary expense, but it had been his mother’s birthday, and she had looked _so_ happy afterwards- _Focus, Izuku._ He shook his head. 

Next, he went to the other side of the kitchen. “What are you making, honey?” His mother asked. Izuku hummed. “Is Miso Soup okay?” He glanced back at her. She nodded. “Alright then.” Izuku mumbled, turning the stove on. He worked in relative silence, apart from the low hum on the TV and the occasional comment from his mom. When he finished, he poured the soup into two ceramic bowls and placed them on the counter. 

Izuku pressed his lips together in a tight smile. “Here you go.” His mother smiled back, green eyes sparkling. “Thank you, Izuku.” She reached out to touch his face. Izuku melted into the contact. “You’re always so thoughtful. I don’t deserve you.” He shook his head. “Don’t say that. Of course you deserve me, we’re only _here_ because you-” The words caught in his throat at her expression. _Stupid,_ he thought, biting his lip until he tasted copper, _Stupid, Stupid, Stupid!_

Izuku gazed up from underneath a wreath of green curls, eyes full of doubt. “Mom, I didn’t mean to-” He cut himself off. Closed his eyes, counted to ten, and then opened them. His mother’s eyes were distant; bright green orbs looking somewhere far off. She gripped the table with white knuckles. Izuku’s heart dropped to his stomach. 

_Alright. Just keep your cool, Izuku. Just don’t make it worse._ He hesitated, then reached across the table, taking her hand in his. The weak smile he got in return felt like winning the lottery. “I’m alright, Izuku.” Inko sniffled lightly, brushing a strand of green hair out of her face. “Thank you.” _Okay? Okay._ Izuku smiled back at her, but he couldn’t suppress his confusion. _That was it?_

He had gotten used to things being a certain way. He had gotten _used_ to seeing her barely hold it together- she was always on the brink of breaking down. But she had always pretended she was fine. Just for him. To protect him. But he had always seen it. He had always heard her cry when she thought no one was listening. But- When had she stopped pretending? Was it her decision, or had she just lost the will to keep up the facade? Izuku didn’t hold it against her. He never _could_ hold it against her. But he wondered when she had stopped trying to protect him, and when Izuku had started trying to protect her.

He didn’t realize he was in a daze until a hand on his shoulder snapped him back to reality. His mother’s green eyes were filled with concern. “Izuku?” She asked. Izuku looked at her. _When did you stop?_ His eyes stung. _Why didn’t I notice?_ A hand on his face. “Izuku, are you okay?” Concern. Izuku opened his mouth, then closed it. And then suddenly, he was moving, throwing his arms around her and burying his face in her shoulder. Emotions swirled together in his chest, mixing together and becoming unrecognizable.

“I’m fine.” He answered once he registered her calling his name again. “Sorry. Just emotional today, I guess.” His mother smiled, smoothing back his hair. “There’s no need to apologize.” She looked down at their food. “Though, we should probably eat before it gets cold.” 

Izuku nodded, blinking back tears. “Yeah.” He picked up his spoon, absentmindedly stirring his soup. “Let’s eat.” 

* * *

Hizashi Yamada, otherwise known as Present Mic, was observant. 

That was a surprise to most people. They saw his hero persona, and his quirk, and assumed that was all there was. Not many people looked past the flashing lights. And Hizashi was okay with that, most of the time. Being underestimated was an advantage. Whether he was in a fight or out of one, he could always surprise people. Well, _most_ people. Shouta knew him. And Hizashi knew Shouta. That was more than most people could say. 

Shouta had always been the introverted type. He often had a carefully neutral mask on, an expression he had mastered to carry out his logical ruses. It was hard for anyone to see what he was thinking. But, if you knew him, like Hizashi did, you would notice things others did not. Like the glimmer in his eye when he was happy, or the dark bags under his eyes when he was stressed. 

Hizashi knew these things. Knew to look for them. So when he stepped into the living room to see Shouta down a thermos of scalding coffee, he knew something was wrong. It was the first of many signs. The next one was the papers spread all over the table, followed by the other three mugs filled with coffee. 

“Hey, honey.” Shouta looked up as he approached, seeming to notice him for the first time. He blinked. “Hey, Zashi.” He replied absentmindedly, then looked back at his computer screen. _Alright then,_ he thought, _So it’s important._ “What are you looking at?” He pulled out a chair, sliding into the chair beside his husband. Shouta’s left eye twitched. “A teenage vigilante.” 

_What?_ “Repeat that?” Hizashi asked, wondering if he had misheard. Shouta groaned, tilting the computer so he could see it. “Oh.” Hizashi said intelligently. “That’s- a teenage vigilante.” The screen showed a picture; a closeup of a teenager with vibrant green eyes and a simple face mask. 

“Ember.” Hizashi breathed out. He had heard of the kid from the news, but he had never seen him up close before. Even this photo wasn’t a _close up,_ close up. A large part of the vigilante’s identity was his ability to disappear at any moment, which could be a quirk, but could also be an incredible amount of stealth. 

“What drives a kid that young to be a vigilante, Zashi?” Shouta looked very tired. “He’s obviously skilled, he could get into hero school, so why become a vigilante?” Hizashi shrugged, mouth turning into a frown. “Maybe he has a quirk that is seen as villainous? You know the discrimination they face.” 

“That would explain why he’s never seen using a quirk visibly.” Shouta said, uncurling his fist on the table. “If he’s been told it’s villainous, he could not _want_ to use it.” Another sigh. “But he doesn’t seem like the type, he’s _confident._ I met him yesterday night; not _cocky,_ but _definitely_ controlled. He was trying to throw me off the whole time.” 

“Throw you off?” Hizashi questioned. Shouta nodded. “It was like he wanted to unnerve me. I think that’s his strategy. He wants you to be caught off guard, so he can escape.” 

Hizashi hummed lightly. “Was he aggressive?” 

Shouta shook his head. “Not at all. He didn’t even ‘attack’ me until the very end, and even then he only inconvenienced me by throwing dirt in my eyes.” He clicked on a different file. “Death Arms says he’s hostile towards Hero society, but I didn’t see that. Or, not to the degree that he was describing.” 

“Maybe he has more respect for you, since you’re an underground hero. You aren’t in the spotlight, and you don’t follow the commission's orders as strictly as some do.” 

Shouta looked at him with wide eyes. “That- actually could be it.” He started to type something on the computer, looking intensely at the screen. “It makes sense. If he dislikes hero society, but not heroes themselves, then underground heroes would be the middle-ground.” He gave him a tired smile. “You’re a genius, ‘Zashi.” 

Hizashi smiled softly. “Thanks, Shou, but what are you going to do about this kid? I know he’s Ember, but surely he can’t defeat everyone.”

Shouta grimaced. “That’s what I’m worried about. He’s skilled, no doubt, but the underground is full of people who’ll kill those who get too cocky. How long until he finds one of those?” 

That was worrying. Hizashi peered at the computer screen again, looking at a far away shot of the vigilante. “If we don’t find him first-” Shouta’s expression darkened. 

“He’ll be in trouble.” 

* * *

There were two types of vigilantes. Naomosa had seen them both. 

The first type was the classic Good Samaritan. It was usually an isolated incident, a robbery or a mugging that they felt _compelled_ to stop. They had good intentions, but they usually just got in the heroes way. Still, due to the nature of the situations, those people usually got off with a pat on the back, and a warning. 

And then there was the second type. The _real_ Vigilantes. The vigilantes who went out every night and patrolled, just like heroes. Except they didn’t have licenses. And they didn’t follow the law. Some of them were violent, some of them were mischievous and some of them were like Ember. 

Young. Determined. Cynical. In a society full of heroes, what drove a kid to be a vigilante? Naomosa still hadn’t figured that one out. Whatever it was, the things they did were illegal, and as an officer, he was obligated to bring them in. It was more for the kid’s own sake than anyone’s else’s - The world was too dark for someone that young to be looking for trouble. 

Saying that he’d catch Ember anytime soon was fooling himself, though. He wasn’t kidding when he told Eraser the kid was skilled- and really, _really_ good at getting out of bad situations. Naomosa hoped that would keep him safe for the time being. Until they could get another chance to bring him in, hoping was all he could do. 

Naomosa sighed, taking a sip of his coffee. _I’m never going to catch this kid, am I?_ As if on cue, his phone started to ring. Naomosa sighed again _,_ swiping at the screen and placing it to his ear. “Detective Tsukauchi speaking.” 

“It’s Eraser. I’ve got Ember in my line of sight.” 

* * *

Izuku slipped out of the house earlier than usual. 

What could he say? He was anxious; after the conversation earlier, he’d spent all day worrying, or- _thinking_? Overthinking? Either way, it wasn’t fun. Izuku was all too happy to get back to patrolling. Being out as Ember was always nice. It gave him control, it gave him freedom, and it gave him a chance to help people. Not in the way he always dreamed of, and not at _all_ approved in the eyes of the law, but he’d take what he could get. 

It wasn't much. But it was better than nothing. And that’s how he ended up here; on top of an old apartment complex, watching the city from above. It’s calm. Peaceful, even. Until he heard a scream. 

The thing is, Izuku had never actually gotten used to screaming. He’s adjusted to it. He’s _learned_ to react better; to start moving before his mind can shrug off the paralyzing fear. To already be halfway there when his reality sets in. 

It’s the only way he deals with it. It’s the only way he _can_ deal with it. And he’s gotten quite good at it, Because he’s already running, towards the source of the scream, towards the danger. It’s exhilarating. And terrifying. God, he loves this. He really does. What that says about him is probably concerning, but he can’t bring himself to care. He has a criminal to catch. 

Criminals _,_ Izuku corrects himself a moment later, ducking behind a wall. Multiple. They’re huddled in the corner of the alley, talking in hushed tones. The source of the scream- a teenager a couple years older than him- is out cold on the pavement. There’s a nasty bruise on their forehead. Izuku curses quietly. _Possibly concussed,_ he notes. _Definitely unconscious._

The criminals seem nervous; the kid was probably a wrench in their plans. It attracted Izuku’s attention, and it’ll attract the hero’s attention, too, if Izuku is lucky. Or unlucky, depending on how vigilante-friendly the hero in question is. 

Izuku is pretty confident in his ability to get away from most heroes - or fight, if worst comes to worst- but he would rather not test those odds. It was always better to be safer, and _that_ wasn’t safe. Especially not for him. But he was overthinking this - the only thing he needed to focus on now was how to get that kid out of here. So how? 

No visible quirks. Kid still unconscious. Izuku was running out of options. That only left Transfer. Izuku gritted his teeth, but forced himself to focus, letting his quirk rise within him. He looked at the first criminal, honing in. Their quirk was sharp to the touch, almost aggressive. It seemed to match its owner in that regard. Probably an emitter. 

Next one. This one felt more smooth, kind of like- iron, or steel? Maybe that was it. It did feel like a transformation quirk. Izuku mentally pencilled it in. The last one was- _strange._ Very strange. It was very fluid-like, and- _disorienting_ ? _Okay,_ Izuku thought, _so clearly some kind of mental quirk._ He’d have to take him out as quickly as possible, then. Those types were the most dangerous. 

Izuku stepped forward, getting ready to jump into the fray, and- He frowned. _There’s someone else here._ It wasn’t a strong signal- or maybe it was. He couldn’t tell. The quirk felt _muted_ somehow, like it was underwater or draped in a blanket. It was weird. 

Izuku definitely didn’t like it. But he couldn’t exactly do anything about it. Not now. He needed to see this through first, and he would worry about the other quirk- _person-_ later. For now, he had to make a move. And so he did. 

“And what are you doing?” Izuku stepped into the alleyway, taking the time to glare at each criminal. “Seems kind of illegal.” A glance down at the unconscious teenager. Izuku forced himself to keep his expression neutral “Scratch that.” He said. “Very illegal.” One of the guys- the one with the _sharp_ quirk- narrowed his eyes. “Who the hell are you supposed to be?” 

Izuku hums, reaching his hand out. “I’m Ember. Have you heard of me?” They most definitely had. Izuku had never seen a person go so pale. He stepped forward, keeping his expression perfectly neutral. “Now, you can either come with me peacefully.” he deliberately paused. “Or I'll make you pay for what you did to that kid.” He tilted his head. “It’s your choice.” 

He watched their expressions shift from uneasiness to anger. “You think you’re all that, don’t you?” One of the others spoke, baring his teeth “You aren’t the only big fish in the pond, Ember!” Oh, Izuku was aware. More than aware. But he was also aware of the fact that he could most definitely kick these guys asses.

“I know.” He said, curving his lips up into a playful smile. “But I did get the impression that you were- what’s the word? Right. A small fish.” He stepped around them to kneel next to the teenager. “Given the fact that you’re unorganized, and seemingly new at this.” 

The criminals sputtered behind him, but he ignored them. Izuku placed two fingers on the teenager's neck. A steady pulse. _Thank god._ “So, tell me.” Izuku said, moving to stand again. “What’s the deal? Money? Drugs?” He glanced down. “Quirk trafficking?” The _steel_ one opened his mouth. Izuku held up a hand.”if it’s that one, don’t tell me, because then I’ll get angry and I’d rather not end up with a murder charge.” 

The criminals exchanged a look, fear clear on their faces. Finally, the sharp one stepped forward. _Probably the ringleader,_ Izuku noted, _he’s been the active voice this entire encounter._ “The kid isn’t involved, okay?” He said. “He just got in the way. He’s fine.” Yes, he was. Luckily. A blow to the back of the head like that- the area where the bruise was rapidly forming- could easily do a lot worse. 

“You got lucky.” Izuku said tersely. “That could have been a lot worse, and I’m not going to give you another chance to do that again, I’m taking you in, either way, so _make up your mind._ ” Still no response. The criminals shifted among themselves. Izuku inhaled, covering his face with both his hands. “Okay. Alright. Look, so this is when you either surrender or fight me. You’ve gotta choose.” 

One more glance. And then the _sharp_ one growled, lunging at Izuku. “All right.” Izuku said. “We’re fighting.” 

He felt the sharp one’s quirk flare, and he jumped back, right in time to avoid a barrage of spiked rocks erupting from the ground. He cursed quietly. ‘Sharp one’ had been more accurate than he thought. _Some kind of control over natural stone. Emitter. Strength level undetermined, but at least medium from the amount of rocks pulled from the ground-_ “Damn bastard!” The sharp one’s face was red with rage. “You just had to get in the way, didn’t you?!” 

“Yeah, that’s kind of my self-proclaimed job!” Izuku shouted back, eyes widening as the man’s quirk _flared_ again. This time, he jumped forward, tackling the man as he used his quirk again, this time making rocks rise from where he was just standing. _Killing intent noted._ Izuku growled, delivering a swift punch to the man’s temple. The criminal went slack in his grasp. Izuku stood, eyeing the other two. 

“Well?” He threw his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “You wanna try?” The other two glanced at each-other. The _‘steel’_ one shook his head slowly, setting down his weapon. Izuku turned to the other one, eyes narrowing as they saw the man’s clenched fists. “I can’t-” Tears streamed down the man’s face. “I can’t just- surrender! I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but this is the only way for someone like me to- to!” 

_Oh, no_ . Izuku backed up. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing-” he started, backing up and subconsciously running through his quirks. “It’s not worth it. Listen to me- You said you don’t want to hurt anyone? You don’t have to. Look, I get it, okay? You feel like you have to do this, in order to survive.” A heart-wrenching sob escaped the man. Izuku’s heart clenched. “You don’t. The world will tell you you’re destined to be a villain? Fuck them! They’re _wrong_.” 

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew my quirk.” The man lamented. Izuku shook his head. “Yes, I would. What’s your quirk?” _It can’t be worse than mine._ “It’s - It’s called _I-Impairment._ I-I can muddle someone’s senses like a d-drug. It a-always affects me too, though, so I can’t s-stop it once it starts!” _Yeah, that would definitely be an inconvenience untrained. But-_ “That could be an amazing quirk!” Izuku said. “R-Really?” The man asked. 

“Yes!” Izuku urged. “You could use it as a doctor, or a hero, or a police officer! All you have to do is get some training on the output, and it would be incredibly useful! You could use it to calm someone down, or stop an attacker in their tracks! Just because others don’t see the potential in your quirk doesn’t mean there isn’t any!” Izuku wasn’t lying. Transfer _wanted_ that quirk. It would be so useful, if properly trained. Still- he wouldn’t do it. He _couldn’t_ do it. Izuku forced _transfer_ down, slowly moving closer. 

“They have rehabilitation programs for people like you.” He kept his voice even. “This was a mistake, but it isn’t the end of your life. Just- put your weapon down, and come with me to the station.” _Come on,_ Izuku thought, inching closer, _Come on._ The man shook violently, and for a moment, Izuku thought he would activate his quirk anyway. And then he dropped his gun. 

Izuku let out a choked sound, smiling underneath his mask. “Cool.” He said, nodding. “Yeah.” It wasn't the thing to say, but Izuku was too tired to think of anything else. He directed the two conscious men towards the wall, having them sit in his line of sight. The vigilante grabbed the teen’s unconscious body, and propped him up against the other wall, pulling out an ice pack from his costume’s first aid kit. The teen started to stir as he pressed it against his wound. “...What?” His eyelids fluttered. “...Where… am?” 

“You’re going to be fine.” Izuku said, once again checking the teen’s pulse. “The police will be here soon. They’ll take you to a hospital. This will be a pretty easy fix with a healing quirk.” _Another quirk that would be really great to have,_ Izuku thought, _Recovery Girl’s quirk, or something similar to it._ “Healing quirks are highly underrated, if you ask me.” The barely conscious teenager didn’t ask him, but he continued anyway, voice a low whisper. “Even just regeneration ones.” 

The teen moaned as Izuku inspected the bruises again. He winced in sympathy, putting the ice-pack back immediately. They stayed that way until he heard sirens quickly approaching. “I have to go.” Izuku said, standing up. He spared a glance at the man, nodding quickly. “Remember what I said.” He said, then turned, swinging himself onto the fire escape and then the roof above them. Izuku- no, _Ember-_ gave the group a little wave as he turned and fled into the night. 

* * *

Izuku usually had patience. Today, though, he was too tired to deal with a lot of things. Including Eraserhead, who had been stalking him since he had left the alley. _Should I confront him?_ He honestly didn’t have the energy to stage _another_ escape. But his follower wasn’t going to go away on his own. _You know what? Sure._ Izuku took a deep breath, and then turned very slowly, glaring at the darkness. “I’m not in the mood, Eraserhead.” 

The hero emerged from the shadows, loosely wrapping the rest of his capture weapon around his neck. “I’ll be honest, neither am I.” He held both hands up when Izuku tensed, staring at him with an unreadable expression. “You know, kid, you’re one of the only ones who can track me when I’m trying to stay hidden. You wanna tell me how?” Izuku considered it. Genuinely considered it. And then mentally slapped himself in the face. 

“No.” He said. “No. That would be - a terrible idea, really.” His mask was slipping through his fingers, and Izuku _hated_ that. His encounter with that man had brought up emotions he had kept buried, and feeling them again, after all these years? To put it plainly; _It was fucking exhausting._ Izuku breathed out shakily, not-quite-sobs escaping him as he crouched on the roof. Eraserhead sighed. “That must have been hard.” He said, voice remarkably soft. “To defuse that situation.” 

_Keep your cool, Izuku._ He repeated it over and over like a mantra. _Keep. Your. Cool._ He turned towards the city, staring at the blinking lights until his vision turned blurry. “Kid.” The hero knelt next to him, watching him with dark eyes. “Why did you become a vigilante?” Izuku inhaled. Then exhaled. And inhaled again, and so on, and so forth until he felt like he wasn’t going to explode. And then, finally, he spoke. 

“Because.” Izuku said softly. “Being a hero? It’s not so great. They don’t save everyone. Not with a smile, not at all. They-” He inhaled again, pressing his eyes shut. “They don’t even save most of us.” _Too honest,_ the voice in the back of his head screamed. Izuku didn’t care. “ _Us?”_ The underground hero asked softly. Izuku ignored him, keeping his eyes ahead.

“The city is really beautiful tonight.” He said, voice reverent. Eraserhead shifted beside him, following Izuku’s gaze to the horizon. “Yeah.” He said. “It really is.”

They sat there in silence for another few minutes, until Izuku moved to rise, wiping at his damp cheeks. “I’ve gotta go.” He said. Eraserhead didn’t try to stop him. 

* * *

Izuku was still tired.   
  


It wasn’t the angry kind of tired anymore; that anger was gone, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion that weighed down his every step. The streets were filled with color; not just the stars, or the not-quite black of the sky, but the flashing lights of the buildings, and the neon billboards stationed at the top of tall buildings. Izuku had watched it all from above only minutes ago, but nothing quite captured it up close. 

It was _so_ beautiful. The kind of beautiful that chased the air from your lungs, and left you breathless. Izuku wondered if that was why Eraserhead had let him go; maybe they were both caught up in the stars. Maybe they both didn’t _really_ want to fight. That was a good enough reason. Other things were more complicated; things like anger and hope and loss. Izuku was too tired to think about those things. The stars were reason enough. 

There were a lot of reasons for everything, Izuku knew. A reason for the stars. A reason for Izuku Midoriya. A reason for Ember. He knew it, but he didn’t like to think about those reasons. Those reasons were attached to memories. Memories he didn’t want. 

Izuku took a deep breath, and kept walking. People stared at him as he passed, whispers on their lips and pity in their eyes. He wondered just how exhausted he looked, to attract attention like this. Probably as bad as he felt. As the stares continued, he felt the familiar urge to use _disappear._

He pushed that thought down immediately. _I really am tired,_ he thought, _I’m in the middle of a street. That’s a public quirk usage charge, right off the bat._ Unless he claimed he couldn’t control it, which would likely just prompt further investigation, and- Yeah. Izuku needed to go home and sleep. When he started coming up with elaborate plans to lie to law enforcement, he was too tired to be outside. 

The world swayed in Izuku’s vision, but he forced himself to focus. One foot in front of another. Stare forward until his vision solidified, and listen in until he could hear- _something._ Izuku stopped, turning to the nearest shop window, where a TV played from behind the glass. The reporter- a twenty something with short brown hair and a stricken expression- was standing in front of what looked to be a crime scene. Izuku subconsciously leaned forward. 

_Another Villain attack?_ Izuku thought, and then winced. He had clearly been slacking, if he hadn’t even _seen_ the villain that could cause _that_ much damage. He had been busy with the criminals, but not busy enough to not even notice whatever caused those scorch marks on the ground. _Explosions, maybe?_ A familiar face resurfaced in his mind at that, but Izuku pushed it down. 

_Kacchan would never attack anyone,_ he thought, then tucked the thought away. He wasn’t going to think about Kacchan tonight. _What would you know about him now, Izuku?_ Izuku ignored the voice, turning his attention back to the broadcast. “The Villain attacked earlier this evening, and took a hostage. The victim, Katsuki Bakugo, was rushed to the hospital-”

Izuku’s knees buckled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izuku, as Ember: I’m going to arrest you.   
> Not-criminal: I’m going to start crying.   
> Izuku, already feeling sympathetic: ...fuck  
> —  
> Well, you guys know where I’ve been now. Writing this Goliath of a chapter. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did, please comment! Comments fuel me, I need them to stay alive. No seriously though please comment.


	7. Afterthought

Izuku didn’t remember arriving at the hospital. 

Didn’t remember much at all, really. One moment he was watching the news broadcast, and the next he was here, standing in the chilly autumn air outside of Musutafu Hospital. He stood still, watching as a steady stream of people went in and out. No one spared him a glance- they were each too busy with their own tragedy to notice him. 

Although, Izuku wondered if it could be called _his_ tragedy at all. Maybe he didn’t have that right. He hadn’t seen Katsuki in _years_ ; not by choice, but that didn’t change much in the grand scheme of things. Katsuki- _Kacchan -_ was the one part of his old life he had never managed to bury. The closest thing he ever had, or ever would have, to a brother. 

Izuku had always missed him, but he had pushed those feelings down; after years and years, he had finally convinced himself it was for the better. That as long as Izuku wasn’t around, Kacchan wouldn’t be a target. But he was hurt. Not from one of _his_ followers, but- but that didn’t change the fact that he was in the hospital. And Izuku had no idea if he was safe. 

So what could he even do? Step inside the hospital, with its stark white walls and its strangers, or continue to stand out here in the cold. He had to make that choice. And yet, his feet wouldn’t move at all. Izuku took a deep breath. And then another. _Just move, Izuku._ He clenched his fist as his vision blurred again. _Just- Just take a step._ His feet remained planted on the ground. 

Izuku took another shaky breath in, then shook his head roughly, turning and walking to the nearest bench. He sat down, burying his face in his hands. His eyes stung with unshed tears. _Breathe. In. Out. Steady. Stay in control._ He hastily wiped at his eyes, drawing his knees up to his chest. _Calm down, Izuku. Just calm down, just stop-_ He inhaled again. And again. And again, but no amount of shaky breathing made him feel like he wasn’t going to suffocate. 

“It’s fine.” He mumbled to himself. “You’re fine. Kacchan is fine, they took him to a hospital, they have healing quirks there, he’s probably fully recovered by now, so just-” his chest tightened to the point of pain. “Calm down. Just calm down, calm- It’s fine. It’s fine, it’s fine. Nothing’s wrong, nothing-” He let out a low whine, clenching his fist as his eyes burned. 

_Get it together._ He forced himself to focus. _Five things._

Okay. First, the ground under his feet. That was good, that was simple. Second- _god, this sucks-_ the not-black of the night sky. Third, the bench he was sitting on. Fourth- Fourth. Izuku took another breath. _Breathe, Izuku._ Fourth, the hospital. Fifth- Fifth was- Fifth was? 

Fifth was - a girl? Yeah, a girl. Izuku slowly unclenched his fists, placing both his shaking hands in his lap. _Transfer_ buzzed frantically under his skin. He ignored it- or tried to. His quirk was more ‘sentient’ than most. It had a mind- and a will- of its own, and when Izuku started slipping out of control, it came back with a hunger. 

_Breathe._ He rubbed at his eyes, trying to distract himself, but _Transfer_ flared, alerting him to a nearby quirk. He looked up to see the girl standing there. “Sorry, didn’t mean to-” she shook her head. “Is it okay if I sit here?” Izuku hesitated, but nodded. She gave him a sad smile, sitting down. “Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, knees drawn to their chests, before Izuku began to notice a cloud of blue and purple smoke surrounding them. He startled, looking over to the girl. Her eyes widened slightly. “Sorry, I’m sorry! My quirk does that sometimes.” She waved her hand, and the smoke dissipated. _Don’t ask her about her quirk._ Izuku thought. _You don’t need to give Transfer more ammo._ As if on cue, Transfer _hummed_ in anticipation. _Don’t do it. Do. Not. Do. It._

“What’s your quirk?” Izuku asked. The girl looked over at him. “Oh! Well, I can create clouds of smoke, like you saw, and the colors they appear in correspond with my emotions.” Oh. Izuku didn’t want that quirk at all. Not because it was bad, but because in his line of ‘work’, broadcasting your emotions like that was a death wish. Still, it could be useful. Izuku wouldn’t deny that. 

“That would be good to have in an emergency.” Izuku said. “You could put out a colored smoke signal, if you got caught in rubble or something. In a situation like that, it’s just as if not more useful than traditional ‘flashy’ quirks...” He trailed off, shrugging. “Or so I think, anyway. I could be wrong about the way your quirk functions.” 

The girl shook her head, still looking surprised. “No. No, you were actually spot on.” Her smile turned a little less sad. “I think you’re the only one who hasn’t written off my quirk as useless, or just for appearances.” Oh, Izuku had words about that. “Well, I guess you know what they say.” He started, mouth quirked up in a small smile. “Most people wouldn’t know a good quirk unless it burned their face off.” 

At that, the girl laughed, _actually_ laughed, and Izuku felt pride swell up in him. “You know what, you’re kind of right.” She said. “Though I’m not sure I’d phrase it that creatively.” Izuku chuckled too, shrugging. “You’re probably right. Maybe they’d get the message another way, like, I don’t know, a smoke signal?” This time, they both laughed; Izuku couldn’t tell if it was out of pure exhaustion, or something else. 

“Wow.” The girl said, shaking her head with a smirk on her face. “That was terrible.” Izuku nodded. “Yeah, it really was.” Another round of laughter, quieter this time. The girl stuck her hand out. “Kou Koari.” Izuku took it. “Midoriya Izuku.” She smiled. “Midoriya? Cause of the green?” Izuku blinked, and then realized what she meant, brushing his green curls out of his face.

“Uh, yeah.” They had chosen the last name specifically for that purpose, but it wasn’t like she could know that. “My whole family has green hair. Up to my great-grandmother.” The lies rolled off his tongue easily. Kou tilted her head, smiling “Maybe your great-grandmother had a quirk to like change her hair color, and it transferred onto the rest of you.” She said. “Or maybe it’s just genetics, but-” She paused again. “That’s not as interesting.” 

Izuku laughed again. _If only you knew._ He sat back on the bench, staring up at the sky. “So.” Kou said, following his gaze to the stars. “Who are you here for?” Izuku tensed. What could he tell her? He didn’t want to lie. Not about Katsuki. “Kacchan.” Izuku started. “He was my childhood friend, but I haven’t seen him in a long time.” After a moment, he added. “We were sort of like brothers, but-” 

_but then the fire happened, and then everything changed, and I never saw him again._ “But I-” He inhaled again, the familiar sting of tears returning. “I lost my dad.” _That’s a dangerous lie,_ the voice hissed quietly. Izuku clenched his fists. _But is it really a lie?_ He _had_ lost his dad. He had lost the person he saw as his world, as _his_ hero, and even if none of it had been real, Izuku had still grieved that illusion. So was it _really_ a lie? 

The voice was silent. Izuku almost missed it. “And then, um-” He stared at the ground. “I didn’t have a way to contact him, after that. So, we never each saw each other again.” Silence. And then, “God, that’s awful.” Kou said. “I’m really sorry, Midoriya.” 

Izuku pushed down the urge to reassure her it was fine. He couldn’t say it was fine- it _wasn’t_ fine, and he wasn’t going to lie while Kacchan was closer than he had been in the past eight years. Instead, he exhaled slowly. “Yeah. It’s pretty awful.” He blinked, wiping at his eyes. “So, who are you here for?” 

It was Kou’s turn to look sad. She leaned back. “My sister.” Izuku turned to face her. The girl took a deep breath. “She’s only seven, but her quirk is pretty much sabotaging her body.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “Her quirk is also related to smoke, but it’s much more powerful than mine. She can keep it built up in her body, and it’s started to gather in her lungs.” She looked down. “And you can only imagine how bad that is.” 

“Oh.” Izuku said quietly. He _had_ heard of things like that happening; after three generations of quirks, most of them were finely tuned enough to not damage the body of the quirk holder. But, occasionally, you’d get something like that. A simple misfire in a DNA strand, and you got a child who wasn’t invulnerable to own quirk. Doctors could put the kid on quirk suppressants, but the long-term effects of using quirk suppressants on a child were- _bad._ Really bad.

Izuku looked at her sympathetically. She nodded. “Yeah. If it’s not taken care of soon, she might end up permanently damaged or-” Kou choked back a sob, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Or d-dead.” Izuku bit back the reassurance on his tongue. “What are they doing? To try to intervene?” 

Kou wiped at her eyes again. “Quirk suppressants, mostly? And they have a quirk counselor working with her, to try and teach her to expel the smoke, but she’s so young she doesn’t have that much control yet.” Izuku’s mind was in overdrive. If the kid’s quirk was killing her, then- he could stop that. If there were no other options, he could help her. 

He didn’t _take_ quirks; that was the general rule. But if he could help this kid, if he could stop her from suffering, maybe he could make an exception. Just this once. Maybe _Transfer_ could help someone after all. But no. He wouldn’t do it unless there was no other way. 

For now, Izuku rested a hand on the girl’s shoulder, slipping into a familiar role. “They’ve gotten a lot better with quirk science.” He said quietly. “And the suppressants are more closely managed, so the side effects won’t go unnoticed.” She sniffled. “And you intervened early, too, so it wasn’t able to become more severe before she got help.” 

“Yeah.” Kou said. “I’m just scared, you know?” Izuku nodded. “Yeah. I know. I’m pretty terrified myself. Kacchan is inside, and I still haven’t gathered up the courage to go inside and see him.” Kou made a sound of realization. “Oh, right. Because you haven’t seen him in a long time. Does he know you’re here?” Izuku shook his head. “I only heard about him being injured an hour ago. I’ve been out here the whole time.” 

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Must have been scary.” She said. “Hearing about your childhood friend after all those years, only to find out he’s hurt.” Izuku nodded. “Yeah.” She looked back to the entrance. “Let’s hope we both get good news, huh?” Izuku followed her gaze. “Let’s hope.” 

They sat in silence until the hospital doors opened again, revealing a frazzled looking woman with a resembled Kou. “Is that-?” Izuku asked, but Kou was already on her feet, running to meet the woman halfway. “How‘s Hachi?” The woman wiped at her eyes. “She’s stable. The doctors are going to put her on quirk suppressants, and we’re going to observe her to see what happens.” 

Kou nodded, a single tear falling down her cheek. The woman made a sympathetic noise, gently wiping it away with her thumb and pulling the girl into a hug. “We’re going to do everything we can, Koari.” Kou nodded into the woman’s shoulder, meeting his eyes. Izuku smiled at her. Kou smiled back. “Can we see her?” She asked, pulling back from the hug. The woman nodded. “Yes. They’re allowing us to stay for another hour. You can spend that time with Hachi.” 

Kou nodded, smiling at the woman before turning to Izuku and quickly making her way over. “Thanks for keeping me company.” She said, smiling softly. Izuku shrugged. “It was a two way effort.” Kou smiled, and began to walk away, before pausing, and turning back to him.

“You should go see your friend.” She said. “I know it’s complicated, but-” She paused again. “If you were as close as you said, I think he’d be happy to see you. You don’t really forget a bond like that, you know?” Izuku nodded slowly. She placed a hand on his shoulder, mimicking his earlier gesture. “Good luck, Midoriya.” 

And as she walked away, Izuku found himself alone again. 

* * *

Katsuki was getting really, really tired of being treated like glass.   
  
He had expected it at first _._ He knew that the hag was going to be scared. He knew that she was going to relate this situation to Mikumo. So, for the first hour, he kept his mouth shut. Listened to the doctors, answered all their questions, just so he could go home and never think about it again. 

Then the first hour passed. And then the second. And then, the nurse looked at him with sickly-sweet pity and told him he was going to have to stay the night. _For observation purposes,_ she had said, _We need to make sure there isn’t sludge still in your lungs._ And wasn’t that a _great_ thought? Parts of a villian, stuck in his lungs, slowly choking him. Fan-Fucking-Tastic.

“Are you sure you feel fine?” Katsuki groaned, flopping back on the hospital bed. “Yes.” He said, resisting the urge to explode. “I’m fine.” The nurse nodded, moving to adjust the IV in his arm. “I can imagine you aren’t very happy staying here, after the night you’ve had.” Katsuki grumbled under his breath, not meeting her eyes. “But just think about it this way.” She started. “It’s one night here to make sure everything’s fine, instead of who knows how many nights if it isn’t and we don’t eliminate the problem now.” 

Well, when she said it like that, Katsuki felt unreasonable. He grumbled again, shifting so that his gaze was trained on the floor. “Fine.” He said quietly. The nurse smiled. “Great. Now, our visiting hours are over soon, so if you want to see your parents before tomorrow, it needs to be now.” Katsuki swallowed. “What are they doing right now?” 

The woman hummed. “Last I checked, doing paperwork in the lobby.” She looked up. “You sent them out, right? They could’ve filled out the files in here.” Katsuki nodded, crossing his arms. “They hadn’t stopped freaking out since the moment I got here, even when I _told_ them I was _fine._ It was driving me crazy.” 

That, and Katsuki had started to recognize the far-off look in the hag’s eyes when she looked at him; it was the same look she had when Auntie Inko or Mikumo was brought up. Seeing that look aimed at him - it made his skin crawl. He wasn’t even _that_ injured, and he definitely wasn’t dead. There was no reason for her to look at him like that. 

“Katsuki?” The nurse’s voice was concerned. He shook his head. “It’s whatever. Send them in or don’t, I don’t care. I just wanna sleep.” The woman nodded, picking up her clipboard from the side table. “I’ll check with your parents.” Katsuki nodded, looking out the window until the sound of retreating footsteps faded. Ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door. He looked up. 

The hag stood at the door, holding a Kit-Kat. “Hey, Brat.” She said fondly, crossing the room and handing it to him. “Your favorite. I got it from the vending machine downstairs.” Katsuki looked to his dad, who was hovering behind her. The man gave him a sheepish smile. _Must have calmed her down, then._ “Thanks.” He said, carefully unwrapping it. The hag took one of the seats beside his bed, reaching out to take his free hand. Katsuki didn’t pull away. 

“You must be excited to go home tomorrow, huh?” Katsuki couldn’t muster anything more than a bone-deep exhaustion, but he nodded anyway, splitting the Kit-Kat with his hands and taking a bite. “Good?” His father asked, a small smile on his face. Katsuki nodded. “Really good.” He finished the rest of the candy quickly, crumpling up the wrapper and throwing it into the nearest trash bin. 

The hag looked up to the clock with a frown. “We have about thirty minutes left for visitation- But don’t worry. We’ll be back at the crack of dawn, as soon as the hospital opens.” Katsuki rolled his eyes lightly, a small smile on his face. “Yeah, I’ll be sleeping at the crack of dawn. Don’t.” The hag shook her head, reaching forward to ruffle his hair. “You’re such a brat!” 

“Yeah, Yeah.” He said. “I’m the worst. Truly awful.” He smirked as the hag rolled her eyes. _Mission accomplished._ Katsuki yawned. “You must be tired.” His dad said, eyes softening. “We can go.” Katsuki waved his hand as he closed his eyes, leaning back in the bed. “Doesn't - matter. You can stay.” The hag laughed lightly, gently pushing his hair out his face. “Sure, brat. We’ll stay.” 

That was good enough for him. 

* * *

Shouta was still reeling. 

He hadn’t expected to run into Ember on his patrol. He _hadn’t_ expected to see him defuse such a tense situation, and he definitely hadn’t _expected_ him to open up on that rooftop. Not that Shouta was complaining. Up until now, Ember was a complete enigma. They had no idea who the kid was, or why he did what he did. And now they did. Or, almost did. 

Shouta had a few more pieces of the puzzle, but he was still struggling to see the big picture. Just who _was_ Ember? Why was he so skilled? And why did he have such a grudge against hero society, but not heroes themselves? Whatever the answer was, it was guaranteed to give Shouta a headache. 

Hizashi looked up as he opened the door, expression hopeful. As soon as he saw Shouta, though, his eyes turned dark. “They didn’t catch the little listener?” He asked, offering Shouta a thermos of coffee. He took it gratefully, shaking his head. “No. I let him go.” 

“What?” Hisashi’s voice was surprised, “But- Why?” That was the question. Why had Shouta let him go? The kid had gotten emotional, but he had never let that stop him before. “I don’t know.” He confessed. “He just- walked away. And I let him.” _Why?_ The kid had seemed so vulnerable, looked so _tired_ , that Shouta had second-guessed whether bringing him in was the right thing. 

That had never happened before. So what had changed? Shouta shrugged halfheartedly, staring at the ground as Hizashi placed a hand on his shoulder. “Shou.” He said softly. “I’m sure it was a complicated situation.” It had been. One moment, he was watching Ember, and the next, someone else was there. Someone _hurt._

“He didn’t seem confident like he always does.” Shouta began, voice low. “He did, but after the situation turned bad, it was like his whole act fell apart.” Hizashi hummed, nodding. “And you think that’s the real him?” 

Shouta hesitated. “I hope not.” Hizashi sent him a confused look. “You should have seen him, Zashi.” He turned towards his husband. “He seemed- I don’t even know, just off. Nothing like how he normally is.”

Hizashi nodded again, sliding into the seat beside him and taking his hand. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?” He asked. And so Shouta told him. He started from the beginning; he had been on his usual patrol route when he spotted Ember observing a group of criminals from the side of an alley. Shouta had seen it as an opportunity to observe Ember’s combat skills up close and personal, and crouched on a nearby roof to watch. 

“You didn’t want to startle the little listener?” Hizashi asked. Shouta nodded. “He seemed to have the situation under control. I figured my interference would just get in the way.” Another nod. Shouta took that as encouragement to continue. “He was completely in control for the first few minutes, just like the reports. He avoided the ringleader’s spikes with ease, and knocked him unconscious with a blow to the head.” 

“You said he tried to reason with them, too? Does he always do that?” Shouta opened his laptop. “From the top of my head, not always. It seems like there’s a few types of criminals he doesn’t try to talk with.” He clicked on one of the folders, labeled _Ember,_ and began to scroll through the files. 

“What types?” Hizashi asked, leaning in. Shouta signed.“Rapists, Murderers, Human Traffickers. As well as anything that involves kids.” Shouta clicked on one of the files, and began to type. “He definitely has a strong moral code. He’s _that_ much more brutal with violent criminals.” He paused. Hizashi nodded, then frowned. “But, wasn’t a kid involved this time?” 

“The kid’s injuries were an accident, according to the criminals. He stumbled upon them in the act of committing a crime, and tried to call for a hero. The ringleader pushed him, and he hit the ground hard.” Hizashi winced. “Is the listener okay?” Shouta nodded. “Yeah. Just a concussion. Nothing a healing quirk couldn’t fix. I heard he’s resting at Musutafu hospital.” 

“So what happened after he took out the ringleader?” Shouta took another sip of his coffee, sighing. “That’s when things really went wrong. After Ember took out the ringleader, one of the other’s stood down. But the other one didn’t.” Shouta shook his head. “At that point, I was ready to jump in. The situation had gotten way too tense for a kid to handle - or so I thought, anyway. And that’s when the situation changed.” 

Hizashi’s frown deepened. “The last criminal started crying, talking about quirk discrimination. From their conversation, I’m guessing he felt he had to turn to villainy in order to support himself. He didn’t have a job, and was dangerously close to losing his apartment. He did tell the police he was completely against hurting the kid, though. That was only the ringleader’s doing.” 

“Was Ember sympathetic?” Hizashi asked. Shouta blinked. Once. Twice. “Yeah, that’s an understatement.” He took an extra long sip of the coffee, staring at the file with red eyes. “Ember immediately dropped the theatrics to try to calm him down. At first I thought it was just because he was in danger, but he _meant_ the things he said, Zashi. All of them.” 

“What did he say?” Hizashi’s voice was curious. “Mostly stuff relating to having a villainous quirk, and the discrimination they face. He even reassured the guy that his quirk could be used for other things.” Shouta took in another deep breath. “It was like an entirely different person. I would have thought he had been hit by a quirk, if he wasn’t talking down the only one with a mental quirk.” 

“You think he related to him?” Hizashi asked. Shouta nodded. “I’m almost sure of it. He looked like he was on the edge of his own breakdown the entire time. It probably hit too close to home for him, if I’m correct in my assumptions.” Hizashi raised an eyebrow. “Your assumptions? You think you know something about the little listener?” 

Shouta nodded. “The reason we haven’t seen his quirk yet? It might be because it’s seen as traditionally villainous.” Hizashi shifted, sitting up. “If he’s faced discrimation for his quirk, or if he was told he couldn't be a hero because of it-” Shouta nodded. “Then it would make sense for him to become a vigilante, and to not use a quirk while doing it.” 

Hizashi sat back in his chair. “Huh.” He said. “So, what happened after? Right before you confronted him?” Shouta paused, taking another sip of coffee before continuing. “He managed to talk him down. I was surprised, I’ll admit. Once he fled the alley, I followed him to the nearby roof. He knew I was there, somehow, I have no idea how. I tried to get him to tell me how I knew, but he shut down. I-” He closed his eyes briefly. “That was the moment I saw how tired he looked.” 

Hizashi made a little ‘oh’ sound. Shouta sighed, burying his face in his hands. “I asked him why he became a vigilante and he told me it was because heroes didn’t save everyone. Or most of everyone.” Hizashi frowned. “Sounds like the listener comes from a bad situation. Did you ask him anything else?” 

Shouta shook his head. “I couldn’t tell if he was dissociating or just ignoring me, but the only thing he talked about was the sky.” Hizashi’s eyes turned sad. “Poor kid. He’s too young to have to defuse those types of situations.” Shouta nodded. “Yeah, he is. And he was even younger when he started. It had to have taken its toll on him.” 

“Is that why you let him go?” Hizashi asked softly. “Because you saw how tired, or how young he was?” Silence. And then, Shouta spoke.

“Maybe.” He said. “I don’t know.”

* * *

  
Loneliness, in Izuku’s experience, was like watching the world through a pane of glass. 

You could see the lights were turned on. You could _see_ the people inside, the friends and family who were talking and laughing. But you couldn’t approach. There was no door for you to open, and the window was not easily shattered. So you were stuck watching. In the dark, in the cold, in the quiet. 

That was loneliness. And Izuku knew it quite well. He had to, to live the life he had lived. He was used to it. It was never pleasant, but he had learned to deal. Sometimes, though, it was too much. And that was how Izuku had ended up here. Here, being outside of Suzuki-san’s diner. At 10PM. _Well, this is one sure way to make her worried about me._ Izuku sighed, rubbing at his eyes. _Too late to turn back now._

The door jingled as he walked in, alerting Suzuki-san. She looked up. “Izuku!” She said, smiling wildly. “You’re here!” Izuku gave her a tight smile, nodding. “Yeah. I wanted to get something sweet, and this is the closest place, so-” He cut himself off. He tasted copper. She seemed to buy his excuse, giving him another smile. _Good._ It wasn’t like Izuku could tell her the truth; that he had been walking around in circles and eventually found himself here. That was suspicious, and worrying, and Izuku showing up here near closing time was suspicious and worrying enough. 

“I see.” Suzuki-san said, scanning his face - maybe for a lie, or maybe for something else. She gave no indication if she found it. “Well, we have some pastries we haven’t sold out of, do you want to take a look at those?” Izuku nodded. “I’ll just take whatever has the most sugar in it.” He joked. Suzuki-san laughed, waving him towards the counter. He scanned each item in the display. Strawberry shortcake, Cheese cake, Melon cake, Tiramisu, and- over in the tiny section labeled ‘ _American_ ’, Cinnamon rolls. 

Izuku looked up. Then down. Then up again. And then finally, he spoke. “I’ll take six.” 

Five minutes later, he was out of the diner, and had found a nice spot at a popular bus-stop. At this time of night, it was empty. Izuku set the box down beside him, opening it up and taking one out. He examined it for a moment, and then tore a piece off and popped it into his mouth. Izuku let his eyes drift closed, leaning back against the seat. 

_I couldn’t even step inside,_ he thought. _Kacchan gets hurt, and I can’t even step inside the hospital._ He took a deep breath, pulling another piece off. _Why couldn’t I step inside? How can I be such a coward?_ Another piece. Tears stung his eyes. Izuku hugged his knees, staring out into the dark with blurry vision. _I want to go home._ And then, _if only I could figure out where that is._

He took a deep breath. Then another. And then, Izuku was crying, burying his face in his hands as he curled in on himself. _It’s not fair._ Tears streamed down his cheeks. _It’s not fair._ He brought a hand up to his face, knocking the box off the bench and onto the road. Izuku cursed, wiping away his tears and crouching down to pick it up. Another set of hands beat him to it. Izuku looked up. 

“‘Need some help?” Ingenium asked. Izuku gaped at him. “Um-” Izuku stood quickly, wiping at his eyes. “Thanks.” The man smiled at him. “No problem. I always enjoy helping when I can.” Izuku nodded. “Yeah, okay.” The man continued to stare at him. “What brings you here?” Izuku asked, then shook his head a moment later. “I mean, you usually patrol downtown, don’t you?” 

He realized his mistake when Ingenium raised an eyebrow. “You know my patrol routes?” _Fuck, I’m too tired for this._ Izuku shook his head. “No, not the specifics” _Yes, the specifics, all of it._ “I just watch your fights downtown sometimes.” _Meaning; I took notes on your fighting style when I first started as a vigilante._

Ingenium’s posture relaxed. “Ah, a fanboy, then?” Izuku paused, then smiled. “I’m definitely a fan of you!” And he was. Heroes like Ingenium were rarer than anyone knew; heroes that didn’t mind working with Vigilantes. Izuku had secretly always dreamed of partnering with him, but he would never admit it out loud. 

“Well, it’s always nice to meet a fan.” Ingenium said, then gestured to the bench. “Do you mind?” Izuku nodded quickly, picking up the box and placing it on his lap. The hero slid into the seat beside him. “Whatcha got there?” He asked. “Oh!” Izuku opened it. “Um, cinnamon rolls, from the diner down the street.”

Ingenium nodded. Izuku took that as a sign to continue. “It’s run by this nice family, Suzuki-San and her husband- they’re really dedicated to the shop, and they have really good food there, so-” He shrugged, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I see!” Ingenium said. “I’ll have to swing by! I’m going to be in this area a lot more, actually, so that’ll work out.” 

_That_ got Izuku’s attention. He looked up, eyes curious. “Are you moving your agency here?”’ The man shook his head. “Ah, no, but I’m taking on a long-term assignment.” _A long term assignment?_ Izuku wracked his head for any prominent criminal organizations on the rise. When he couldn’t think of anything, he frowned. The man noticed immediately. “What’s wrong?” He asked, looking concerned. _Crap._

“Nothing!” Izuku said. “It’s just, I was trying to figure out what kind of job a hero couldn’t just- I don’t know, punch through.” _Drug trafficking? Trigger sales are at an all time high, that could be it. But why would they bring in Ingenium? Why not Eraserhead, or another underground hero?_ Ingenium laughed. “It’s actually kind of complicated. Do you know about vigilantes?” 

_Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me._ Izuku blinked, and then forced a smile. “They’re like heroes, but they don’t have licenses, right?” Ingenium nodded. “Right. If I’m honest, I don’t really mind them. A lot of them are actually good people. But, it’s still illegal, and so I'm hoping I can convince this one to become a hero the legal way.” _Please don’t tell me you’re talking about me. Please don’t tell me you’re talking about me. Please don’t tell me you’re talking about-_

“Which vigilante are you talking about?” Izuku asked with a perfectly neutral voice. Ingenium paused. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of him or not. Ember?” _Shit._ Izuku paused, then nodded. “Yeah, I think I’ve heard of him. I saw a news broadcast a couple years ago, when he was just starting out. I think it was a mugging?” _I know it was a mugging. I got out of that with a nasty bruise._

Ingenium nodded again. “He’s pretty popular in this area, or at least online. I’m not surprised you’ve at least _heard_ about him. Honestly, I was half-expecting you to be a fan. There’s a lot of people he’s saved around here.” A thoughtful look crossed his face, then he smiled again. “You’d be surprised how much good a vigilante can do. I’d like to meet him someday.” 

_You’re talking to him right now._ Izuku smiled again, nodding. “He sounds cool.” The hero nodded. “Yeah, I think so too. Which is exactly why I’m hoping I can sponsor him, once he’s caught.” _What?_ Izuku tilted his head. “Sponsor? What do you mean?” _Sponser, as in fund my ‘rehabilitation’? Why would he do that?_

“Oh! Right. Sometimes I forget most people aren’t knowledgeable about that sort of thing. I mean the vigilante rehabilitation program. That’s the only way someone with a criminal record can become a legal hero.” _Yes, but I’m not planning on being caught anytime soon. Or at all._ “You think he’s going to be caught soon?” Izuku asked, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. 

Ingenium shrugged. “I can’t be sure, and I can’t divulge why I think so, but possibly. Don’t worry, though. I’ve volunteered to patrol here after he’s caught, so the people who live here don’t suffer negatively for it.” That was - really thoughtful, actually. It reminded Izuku why he was such a fan of Ingenium in the first place. “That’s good.” Izuku started. “This place can be dangerous if there isn’t someone looking over us.” 

The man frowned. “This area didn’t have a lot of hero activity before Ember came along, did it?” Izuku shook his head. That was one of the main reasons Ember had been created in the first place - too many people were getting hurt.

“I guess I get it.” When Izuku looked up, Ingenium elaborated. “What would drive someone to become a vigilante around here. If the heroes can’t protect you, then who will?” He shook his head. “I can’t say I blame him. He probably has his own people to protect.” 

Izuku swallowed, and nodded slowly. Ingenium looked over to him. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to start a moral debate.” Izuku shook his head, keeping his gaze on the ground. “No, it’s okay.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I can really blame him, either. At least not for those reasons.” 

There were other reasons, reasons Izuku shouldn’t even have thought about creating Ember, reasons that he should have left the moment he ran into Ingenium. And yet he was still here. And he couldn’t blame Ember for that- this was just Izuku. _Just_ Izuku. 

“Yeah?” Ingenium asked, eyes concerned. “Yeah.” Izuku answered. They sat in silence for a moment, before Ingenium leaned forward, resting his hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “How about this? You show me that diner, and I’ll walk you home.” 

Izuku nodded. “Okay.”

* * *

Midoriya Izuku was strange. 

Tensei wasn’t even saying that in a bad way - he wasn’t strange in a ‘teenage delinquent’ way, or even strange in a ‘weird’ way. He was just _off_ . And even that seemed like an unkind description. Because Midoriya hadn’t _been_ unkind at all. Awkward, definitely. Clearly nervous. But the thing that was off with Midoriya wasn’t any of those things. 

It was part of the way he paused before he spoke, like he was coming up with the best possible lie. It was the way that his words, when they did come out, were practiced and even. And it was the way that he seemed _guarded_ , like Tensei was getting a rare glimpse of him through a darkly-tinted window. 

That was unusually poetic for Tensei, but he felt like it fit. 

They parted ways once they reached Midoriya’s block- block, not house, he had been very adamant and Tensei once again wondered _why?_ \- and Tensei had arrived home ten minutes later with a box of cinnamon rolls. The diner’s owner, Suzuki-san, had smiled when he mentioned Midoriya. 

_He’s a very sweet kid, isn’t he?_ Tensei found himself agreeing. Still, something was off, and Tensei had never been able to silence that instinct. The kid needed help. And Tensei had never been able to ignore _anyone_ who needed his help. 

* * *

When Izuku woke up, it was dark. 

He reached to the side, searching the nightstand for his phone. When he found it, he turned it on, staring at the numbers on the screen with bleary eyes. _6:21,_ it read. He groaned, dropping it and climbing out of bed. The kitchen light was on, casting the room in dim yellow light. Izuku stepped out cautiously. 

“Oh, Izuku.” His mother’s green eyes were filled with sympathy. “I saw the news.” She stood up suddenly. Izuku fought the urge to flinch. “Yeah.” He said quietly. She stepped forward, hesitating before putting her frail hands on his shoulders. “I know- you must be very upset. To see Katsuki hurt like that.” Izuku nodded, this time saying nothing. 

“Did you go see him?” She asked softly. Izuku stiffened. “No.” He said immediately, shaking his head. His mother’s eyes softened. “Izuku, I’m not mad at you. I understand, but you _know_ why we can’t draw attention to ourselves-” 

“I know!” The words slipped out before he could stop them, hoarse and filled with emotion. “I know.” He did know, and that was why him almost doing it anyway was so _stupid._ He wasn’t angry at her- he was angry at himself. He was angry that he could have put them both in danger, and he was _angry_ that he was still so vulnerable to his past. 

Izuku took a deep breath. “I didn’t.” His mother looked at him. “See him, I mean. I thought about it, but I didn’t. I wouldn’t put you in danger like that.” He took another deep breath, keeping his gaze trained on the floor. “I swear I wouldn’t.” Silence. And then, his mother stepped forward, pulling him into a hug. “I’m sorry, Izuku.” She whispered.

_That’s not what I wanted you to say._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, Bitch, I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me. 
> 
> Okay, so I am actually really sorry for taking this long??? I was having some intense writers block, and then I was thinking about deleting the story, and just struggling™️ In general, so. That was rough. But I do hope that you guys enjoyed the chapter, and if you did, please comment, every single one makes my week.


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